


Almost Paradise (We're Knocking on Heaven's Door)

by Nakeycatstakebaths



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Reality Show, Bachelor in Paradise AU, Beach Sex, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Finn was The Bachelor and Gina was The Bachelorette, Fluff and Crack, Minor Jasper Jordan/Maya Vie, Minor Raven Reyes/Kyle Wick, Pool Sex, There's lots of Bachelor references in this, This is basically just lighthearted nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:33:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 38,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23011033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nakeycatstakebaths/pseuds/Nakeycatstakebaths
Summary: Bachelor In Paradise AU.Fresh off "The Most Dramatic Season" of The Bachelor ever, Clarke Griffin hates reality TV more than anything, all it had gotten her was a broken heart and public embarrassment. But when the opportunity to get exposure for her new business (and get back at the bastards who screwed her over) comes up, she can't turn down a few weeks in paradise. After all, she can just sit by the pool, soak up the sun and spend the entire time antagonizing the film crew as much as possible.But it turns out, she may not be the only one with a bone to pick. With the help of a surly, extremely hot former Bachelorette contestant, she may just figure out a way to turn the whole process on its head and get the redemption arc she desperately needs. If she has to accept a few roses along the way, so be it.Kind of cracky, fluffy steamy little ball of reality TV trash
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 159
Kudos: 353





	1. Welcome to Paradise

**Author's Note:**

> This is all just meant to be lighthearted fun, it's honestly pretty ridiculous but I couldn't help myself I love trash TV so much. Lmk if you can spot all the refences to the show! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Clarke adjusted the strap of her bikini, she went with a size smaller than usual because they hadn’t had the yellow one in her size and it wasn’t doing her comfort any favors. She hoped that a few weeks of bikinis would be better than months of sparkly bodycon dresses but clearly that prediction wasn’t holding up.

Whatever, that was kind of the point anyway, right? Her boobs spilling out of her bathing suit was exactly what these producers were looking for. She promised herself after “the most dramatic season yet” that she would stay very very far away from anything and everything Bachelor related, and yet, here she was, in the back of a limo…once again.

Her mom nominated her for Finn’s season more as a joke than anything else, no one expected it to go this far. Clarke went on with the intention of stirring shit, maybe gaining a few extra Instagram followers for her art page, but Finn was been sweet and sensitive, it totally took her by surprise. As much as she hadn’t wanted it to, the whole experience really messed with her head…she fell for it hook, line and sinker.

The big black SUV drew to a halt and Clarke winced as she peeled her thighs away from the hot leather seats, the bright camera lights already boring through her window.

“Welcome to Paradise, Clarke! It’s great to see you again,” Russell grinned, a wide set of too-perfect white teeth glinting back at her as he helped her ease out of the car. He looked exactly the same as always, except that his suit had been traded in for a Hawaiian shirt and some flip flops.

“It’s uhh—weird to be back,” she answered dryly, resisting the urge to tug on the corner of her bathing suit again. The last time Russell saw her, she was trying to keep herself from crying in the back of a limo. He kind of saved her, dragged her away from the insanity, the producers drove her around for almost three hours trying to garner a reaction from her, but she held firm, she had been embarrassed enough already and she wasn’t going to give them what they wanted.

“I’m glad you decided to give yourself a second chance at love, as we all know, your season didn’t end in the way anybody would’ve hoped,” he continued, probing around the awkwardness of what happened with Finn.

A flicker of hurt struck deep in her chest, the combination of Russell and the cameras bringing back all the awkwardness and pain from before. This was why she hadn’t wanted to do this. Her stint of The Bachelor gained her almost a million followers on Instagram, she had become kind of a phenomenon in the aftermath of everything, but still was the most embarrassing thing she ever endured.

“Well it can’t get any worse right?” she chuckled, keeping her expression neutral as Russell stepped off the side and revealed a wide, stone arch that would lead down to the beach.

“That’s the positive attitude we all know and love…” he grinned, flaring his nostrils at her in a way that she knew meant that she was being too abrasive. “Is there anyone here that you’re hoping to see.”

“I’m just trying to be open-minded.”

“That’s what we like to hear! I’m sure there’s plenty of guys down on the beach who are dying to meet you.”

“Gina had some great guys on her season,” Clarke agreed, silently cursing her PR rep for putting her in this situation. This whole thing was just as manufactured and gross as it was the last time she was here. If her experience proved anything, it was that these producers didn’t care about her actually finding something meaningful, they wanted her to cry and make a fool out of herself.

“Well don’t let me stand in the way of you meeting them,” Russell chuckled, sweeping his arm out and gesturing for her to proceed through the stone arch.

With one last tug on her too-small bikini top, Clarke carefully made her way down the stone steps, trying to block out the fact that there were five cameramen and an enormous overhead light two paces behind her.

The stone started to merge with soft, white sand, the sun filtering through the thick throng of trees surrounding her. In the distance, there was a small thatched cabana, a throng of people surrounding it. The first person she saw was—Raven.

Well, that was a surprise.

The only person less likely to be here than Clarke was her. If Clarke had gotten screwed, then she had gotten straight up fucked.

“Clarke!” she yelled excitedly, springing up from the bar with a swirly pink cocktail in one hand and the other flung out for a hug.

They hadn’t seen each other since After the Final Rose, when everything effectively went to hell. The warm reception was shocking, but it wasn’t necessarily unwelcome…they both made a point to stay very far away from “Bachelor Nation” after the way Finn acted and Clarke was glad there wasn’t any bad blood there. They were friends for pretty much the whole season, the underdogs for sure, absolutely nobody thought they would end up being the final two. Given the choice, Clarke would take Raven as a friend over Finn as her husband any day.

They greeted each other warmly, complementing each other’s bathing suits and sharing sips of the pink swirly drink. It was nice, even if dating on this show was headache-inducing, she had missed having friends like this. There was a specific level of closeness that you can only reach with women who you’ve been functionally drunk with while wearing a skintight dress on a Thai fishing boat with your shared boyfriend.

“What made you come back?” Raven murmured, linking her arm with Clarke’s and leading them just far enough that the boom wouldn’t be able to pick them up.

“I need the PR for the non-profit I’m starting…” Clarke replied, putting her finger over the mic around her neck. “You?”

“I’m trying to get a hosting spot on one of those tiny house design shows.”

Clarke snorted, looks like Raven didn’t believe in this process any more than she did. At least she had someone else who was just here for the exposure, they could just sit here and drink, maybe give some snarky advice to the other girls. They needed to toe the line between coming off funny and relatable but not likable enough to be invited back next year.

“I think we’re ‘here for the right reasons’, don’t you think?”

“Most definitely. Here’s to getting a great tan and flirting with guys who aren’t also dating 28 other girls,” Raven nodded, holding up the glass.

“I think your mics are acting up, can I recalibrate them real quick?” one of the sound guys asked, holding his hand out to take their packs, “Sorry, the wind messes with them sometimes.”

“We’ll need to rerecord your conversation too…” a producer said matter-of-factly, looking down at a sheet on his clipboard. “You two seeing each other again is one of our big moments of the season, this is going in the trailer.”

“We were just talking about where Clarke got her bathing suit, nothing interesting.”

“We need you to talk about Finn, not a lot, just enough that the audience gets what they want.”

Clarke felt a flare of irritation at the producer’s flippancy, she knew how this game worked, her PR agent Anya explained it all to her after The Bachelor aired. They would get her and Raven to talk about Finn, something seemingly benign and then in post, they would splice it all together to make it seem like they were fighting over him. This was not what she was here for and there was no way she was going to let this start now.

“About who?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as she crossed her arm across her chest, nudging Raven lightly with the tip of her elbow.

“You’re kidding me, right Clarke?” the producer said, voice lacing with clear irritation.

She shrugged, smiling pleasantly as she continued her denial, Raven joining in to corroborate on her confusion.

“Who’s that?” Raven added sincerely, pouting her bottom lip out at him.

“You two seriously are just going to ignore what happened?” he groaned, pulling an earpiece out of his head and rolling his eyes as he gestured for the cameras to follow him. “We finally get the drama we want out of a lead and he chooses these two to pull it with.”

Clarke and Raven shared a look, both sagging in relief as the cameras hauled away and moved toward a couple further down on the beach who were aggressively making out. It was going to be a long couple of weeks.

“Thanks for that,” Raven sighed, sitting heavily in the sand. “They’ve been probing about him non-stop and I just kept running away. I like your idea better, easier on the knees.”

“I’m not giving them anything...I sat in that limo for three hours, they should’ve known better. I was shocked when my publicist told me they invited me on this.”

“I heard it was because the backlash has been hellish, I deleted my Twitter, but people are really mad about the fact that they let things happen the way they did.”

“Well if they’re looking for happily ever after from me then they’re going to be disappointed. I’m staying away from all the drama.”

“Oh c’mon, you could have a fun little fling. Some of Gina’s guys are really hot…plus she’s a decent person so they aren’t total pieces of shit.”

“God, do you remember the group that came out of Alie’s season? I think most of those guys are on government lists now…”

“Exactly, it could be way worse. Why not have some steamy beach fun with someone hot? We deserve it all things considered.”

“Who all is here so far?” Clarke sighed, taking a long sip through her straw.

“From our season there’s Ontari, Harper, Luna, Josephine, Maya and some random girl who got eliminated on night one whose name I can never remember,” she listed, using her fingers to tick off each of the contestants. “I don’t know all the guys but so far, the hot ones are Wick, Zeke and—Bellamy, but he seems like a lost cause, I think he’s another one who's just here for PR reasons. His sister is an old-time fan favorite who is actually married to one of the bachelors…he’s franchise royalty.”

“Is Josephine still doing that fake baby voice that makes me want to literally die?” Clarke asked, completely skating over the information about the guys, it didn’t matter, she wasn’t going to date any of them anyway. Maybe Raven wasn’t exactly on the same page as her after all.

“No, but she got filler so she’s basically unrecognizable, I swear every time I see her, she looks like a different person.”

Truth be told, the only people Clarke really connected well with on her season was Raven and Harper. Everyone else was just…a lot, some people had clearly been there for the Instagram fame, which admittedly, Clarke was too, so she couldn’t exactly judge but she was more than a little relieved that a few people hadn’t shown up.

“Harper has been vibing with this guy Monty, he’s a real cutie and…I heard he invented Venmo, they’ve been giving each other their roses from the beginning. They’re really the only couple so far. Echo was here for a while and it seemed like she and Bellamy might get together, but he randomly gave his rose to Josephine instead and she got sent home. It should’ve been really dramatic but when they probed him about it, he just shrugged. She did the whole sobbing in the limo thing though, so we all know she’s taking a Fab Fit Fun sponsorship all the way to the bank.”

“Shit, remind me to stay away from Bellamy.”

“You say that now but turn your head about ninety degrees to the side and you’ll reconsider,” Raven smirked, tipping her chin back toward the cabana. “He’s totally your type…”

Clarke turned her head just in time to see a group of men doing burpees in the sand. In a group of objectively attractive guys, you would think it would be hard to stand out…but somehow, there was a very tall, very buff, very tan man who blew all the other ones out of the water. Without even asking, Clarke knew that had to be Bellamy.

She couldn’t help the way her gaze trailed down his body, watching as all the muscles in his stomach flexed with the movement.

Fuck.

Raven was right, he was really hot, way too hot to be around her when she was supposed to be keeping her head down. He straightened fully, flipping his long hair back as he stretched his shoulders, flexing an entirely different set of muscles.

A rush of heat flashed through Clarke’s body, a reminder that it had been a very, very, very long time since she’d been touched by any man, let alone a man who looked like that. If she was going to do this the way she planned, she needed to look away, needed to look just about anywhere other than Bellamy.

After indulging herself in one last sweep over Bellamy’s body, she flicked her eyes away glancing briefly at each of the boys just to have something else to do. Unfortunately, her gaze lined up perfectly with one of the other guys in the group and their eyes met. He flashed her a bright smile, waving broadly at her as he broke away from the group and made his way over to her.

“That’s my cue to leave,” Raven cackled, leaving the drink nestled in the sand as she stood up and made a beeline for a blonde guy that Clarke assumed was either Wick or Zeke.

The cameras appeared seemingly out of nowhere, lowing a mic just above Clarke’s head as the brunette guy approached. He was cute, with classic features and a slow, easy smile. There was something about him she didn’t like but she figured she should at least be open-minded. Maybe Raven had a point…or maybe she was just horny. Only time would tell.

“I’m John…but you can call me Murphy, everyone else does,” he said coolly, holding out his hand for her to shake.

They chatted a little awkwardly, trading names and hometowns, casual pleasantries. It wasn’t earth-shattering by any means but it wasn’t exactly terrible. Clarke remembered him vaguely from Gina’s season, he instigated a lot of fistfights with people, but didn’t necessarily seem like a bad guy in practice. Maybe he was just really passionate? It was kind of nice to talk to a guy again, to feel wanted, even if this was just superficial.

“So I gotta ask, what made you say no to Finn?” he asked, leaning back on his elbows and looking at her with wide, curious eyes.

So much for giving Murphy a chance.

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” she answered sharply, hoping that her tone would be enough to convince him to stop. The cameras were boring holes into her head, and she knew that if he kept pushing this, she wouldn’t be able to stop it.

“I just want to get to know you better and that was a really impressive stance you took there.”

Clarke shrugged, turning her body away from his, trying to figure out the best way to exit the conversation without it being too abrupt.

“I mean that’s a huge gesture…you must have a lot of willpower,” he continued, oblivious to her discomfort. It wasn’t clear if he was doing this on purpose or he knew that this would upset her but either way, Murphy was off the table.

She took a deep breath through her nose suppressing the urge to roll her eyes, knowing that if she overreacted even a little bit she was screwed. This whole thing reeked of a producer planted question, she didn’t give them what they wanted the first time and now they were using Murphy to try again. There wasn’t much she could do about it though, he was smart, this was phrased like a compliment and she would look like an asshole if she tried to call him out on it.

There was a deep-seated desire to unleash all of her thoughts onto these idiots, to really give them a piece of her mind, but Anya warned her about pissing off the producers, one wrong move and they would edit her to look like a maniacal crazy person.

Without saying a word, she stood up. No fanfare, no yelling, just complete silence. She smiled at him broadly, running a hand over his shoulder as she turned to walk away.

They could take their stupid drama and shove it up their ass. This show used her for ratings, driven her completely up the wall, she let them twist her emotions, feed into all her insecurities but she was done. She had given these people enough, now she was going to use them for publicity…without giving them anything in return.

America (moms on Facebook) could call her a cold, frigid bitch all they wanted but she wasn’t going to do this again.

She leaned her elbows against the bar, cradling her head in her hands. Even though leaving like that was a huge rush, she couldn’t help the stab of regret she was feeling from being here in the first place. They had waited till the last minute to give her confirmation, spent a long time going back and forth on whether this was worth it. In the end, they ran the numbers on her Instagram ads and realized she needed more backing before she could launch her project. Whether she liked it or not, she needed to be here…and she needed them to edit her well.

“Ignore Murphy, he’s kind of a dick,” a deep voice said from behind her, sliding up to the bar. She could feel the heat of a distinctly male form beside her, just close enough that she could smell the earthy sting of cologne. “My money is on him gunning to be the next Bachelor because he’s doing pretty much whatever they’re telling him to do.”

His voice was low, almost a whisper, obviously trying to keep the crew from being able to pick up on his words. There was a roughness to his voice, a growl that sent a shiver down Clarke’s spine.

“You must be Bellamy,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant even though her skin was prickling at his proximity.

“How’d you guess?”

“I hear you’re the only person around here who hates production as much as I do.”

He chuckled darkly at that, running a hand through his long messy curls with a wry grin. Clearly, she had said the right thing, because his shoulders eased almost imperceptibly, causing the edge of his bare shoulder to brush with hers.

“If one more person calls me ‘Bachelor Nation Royalty’ I will actually lose my shit.”

“I made you a sash…guess that ruins the limo entrance I was planning later.”

“You joke, but my sister was seriously gunning for me to audition for The Bachelor.”

“Did you do it?”

“Would I be hiding with you in this dark corner if I did?” he laughed, lifting an eyebrow as he nudged his shoulder against hers and rounded the bar, seeming not to care about the way the bartender glared at him from the other end.

“Fair enough,” she said, gratefully taking a beer from him and taking a long, much-needed sip. “So not-bachelor Bellamy, what brings you to the beach then?”

She was genuinely curious why this seemingly normal and attractive man would subject himself to this hellscape. Sure, his sister somehow managed to find love on this show, but he didn’t exactly look like he was on the prowl for his future wife. He really did look just as miserable as she did.

“Life after the NFL is tough, having contacts at ABC never hurts,” he admitted candidly, eyes focused intently on a drop of water that was trailing down the side of his can. “I didn’t really expect to take it this far—”

“And now your management won’t let you pass up such a good opportunity for exposure, right?” she finished, nodding knowingly as his eyes widened at her.

“That was pretty much exactly it. Maybe we can start a support group for people whose PR agents are holding them hostage in Bachelor Nation?”

“So just the two of us hiding from the cameras and drinking?”

“Sounds better than anything else I’ve been doing for the past week…”

They clinked their cans together, the collected drops of water flinging into the air when the metal touched. As much as this beach was chock full of boom mics and invasive questions, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.

***

Russell came bounding down the rock stairs, entirely too joyful for how early in the morning it was, his crisp linen shirt and pearly white teeth as perfect as ever. In his hand was a wide, white envelope. They all knew what it was, what it meant.

A date card.

This always happened after a new person arrived on the beach and if there was one thing this franchise was, it was formulaic. But Clarke had a feeling this wasn’t as straightforward as it looked, there was no way it could be. Not after she hadn’t gone along with what they wanted.

“Clarke and Raven, spread your wings and fly away,” Russell said dramatically, setting the envelope right on top of Raven’s bowl of fruit.

An awkward silence fell over the group, double dates were rare on this show. This was way bolder than she was expecting them to go. Her and Raven were friends, they pretty much moved past the engagement switch situation, but she knew the producers would keep doing this until they talked about Finn.

Her gaze flickered up to Bellamy’s, she wanted to cross the small space between them, to complain about the situation and ask him what she should do. It felt like he was the only person who really understood her in this. They spent pretty much all of yesterday together, cracking jokes about Murphy’s blatant attempts at sucking up to the producers and all the awkward love declarations fueled by alcohol and pressure from the cameras.

They were softly friends, something which she definitely didn’t plan for. It was slightly inconvenient since her body hadn’t quite gotten the memo that she wasn’t supposed to want to sleep with him, but, she liked hanging out with him too much to address it. He was smart and funny, the kind of person she would be friends with in the real world, it was a nice change from having to put on a front all the time.

But if she went directly for him, they would be a target and she couldn’t let that happen. The last thing she needed was for the producers to sabotage one of the only friendships she had here.

Before she could even consider who else to talk to, a taller man came up beside her, tapping her lightly on the elbow. “Can I steal you for a sec?” he asked, clearly this guy was a seasoned pro.

Clarke nodded and followed him to one of the small cabanas, examining him carefully as she spread out. He was cute enough, with light crinkles on the sides of his eyes that made him seem friendly. Under normal circumstances, like at a bar, she probably would’ve considered him to be cute, would’ve even flirted with him a little. But something about him wasn’t right.

She knew exactly what it was too, but she didn’t need to address that right now.

Right now, she just needed to get through this conversation, to throw these people off her trail. She was losing her resolve, growing tired of this giant game of chicken. Part of her wanted to cave, to just spit out the canned response about Finn that she practiced with Anya, but this had gone too far, her pride was on the line now.

Cillian turned out to be fine, nice and normal, charming even, but he just didn’t excite her. He was a doctor and she told him about her mom, traded stories about growing up on the floor of the ER. It was standard first date conversation, but it wasn’t enough to make her want to use her date on him. She couldn’t remember when exactly he went home on Gina’s season, but he felt like an early elimination, dazzling first impressions were clearly not his strong suit.

They were interrupted not too long after by much younger guy, more boy than man really, with a mop of messy black hair and long skinny arms. He was from an older season, when The Bachelorette was only twenty three, from what she remembered it had been a total disaster, a huge mess of angst and hormones.

This probably wasn’t going to go well.

And her instinct was wrong…at least partially. Jasper was funny, definitely, the kind of person she wanted to be friends with, in fact, she really hoped they could be friends, but they were not romantically compatible at all. They joked about Star Wars, traded stories about doing fan art commissions in their teen years. It was a relief, the conversation felt comfortable and safe, not veering into the romantic territory at all.

But she had to keep reminding herself she wasn’t here for the romantic aspect, she was here to make as little noise as possible and put her face out there. In that respect, Jasper was a good option to have, he would be fun to have on a date, but she knew nothing physical would happen between them.

With a genuine smile, she extracted herself from the conversation, catching sight of Bellamy returning from his laps on the beach. The tips of his hair were wet, either from sweat or from the ocean she couldn’t tell, but either way, all she could focus on was the way the stuck to his forehead, curled around the backs of his ears.

He really was incredibly handsome, she had to admit. Every guy here paled in comparison, it was part of why she couldn’t bring herself to be interested in anyone else, not that she was looking anyway. Having a super hot friend was as good as it was going to get around here for her.

She smiled widely as he approached, relieved that she could finally be honest about how she was feeling. There was a glimmer of hope that Raven would be willing to talk about it with her, but she was currently dry humping Wick by the pool so that ship had sailed.

“There are some rocks over there, I’ll meet you behind them in five, the mics go out of range over there,” he panted, not even pausing as he jogged past her, continuing toward the direction he had indicated.

He was taking this really seriously, maybe he actually did hate this process as much as she did. It was fun, like they were spies trying to avoid their enemies. Plus, it was a way for them to not have to interact with the cameras at all.

“Have they ever done a double date before?” he asked from his spot splayed out on the sand, hand shielding his face from the dimming sun.

“I have no clue, but I don’t think so…this whole thing gives me a bad feeling. I swear if they bring Finn here, I will run into the woods and never come back.”

“I don’t think they would be that cruel.”

“Bellamy. They came to my house and made me watch while Finn dumped Raven on national tv and then brought him out and let him propose to me in front of a live audience. These people are capable of anything.”

Bellamy winced, turning on his side to face her fully, his eyes flickered across her features, almost studying her. Clarke had suspected he didn’t watch her season all the way through, that he didn’t know exactly why she was so afraid of what this date would hold, but as she watched him take her in, she knew he understood.

They just met one another, but she knew he was on her side.

“I wanted to take you with me, you’re the only person I trust not to throw me under the bus,” she said carefully, trying not to sound too forward. “

“But that would make us a target,” he finished, a flicker of something she couldn’t quite place etched into his sharp features as he knocked his back into the sand. They laid there in silence, watching the sun dip into the ocean. It was a shame really, this place was beautiful, it sucked it was clouded by all this bullshit.

Suddenly, it occurred to her. This was all bullshit, the whole thing was a giant scam. The odds that any of these couples would last a few weeks beyond this was so slim it barely existed at all.

Why were they even bothering with this game? She could do better than this, they made her play their game before, but she didn’t have to do it again. This time she had someone on her side.

“What if we let them make us a target?” she said after a beat, brain buzzing with excitement over her sudden realization.

“What do you mean?”

“You need the good press, I need good press…what is the easiest way to get good press around here…”

“We turn the game back on them,” he grinned, sitting up fully so he could look at her with an almost wicked smile. “You’re a genius.”

“Will you accept this rose?” she teased, holding out a leaf to him with a full-bellied laugh. It was like a huge weight had been lifted off of her. This was perfect, a solution to her PR problems and a way to completely throw the narrative off of Finn…and if she got to make out with Bellamy in front of the cameras a few times in the process, so be it.

“It would be an honor to commit this bachelor nation crime with you.”

***

It was raining and wet, not exactly ideal weather for a date in paradise. They postponed it till later in the week, leaving Bellamy and Clarke all day free to lay out their trap. It would be easy, especially since they had already established a reputation for being hostile around the cameras. Now they just needed to pretend like they thought they were alone, flirt a little. It had to be subtle, couldn’t lay it on too thick or it would be too obvious. They were probably taking this too seriously for their own good, but they had had too much fun sitting behind the rocks and mapping this all out, it really was the perfect crime.

Clarke hopped up on the edge of the pool, dangling her legs into the water while she and Raven watched the boys play a game of water volleyball.

“So, you and Wick seem cozy…” she said suggestively, pushing up her sunglasses so she could wiggle her eyebrows at Raven.

“He’s a huge nerd, it’s kind of great.”

“I’m happy for you dude, you deserve to have some fun.”

“You do too you know. Has anyone caught your eye yet? You disappeared for like five hours yesterday.”

“Maybe…nothing’s for sure yet, but I’m pleasantly surprised.”

“Who is it!?!”

“I don’t kiss and tell…” she teased, dodging the splash of water that Raven tossed her way. Her gaze flickered toward Bellamy and she let herself openly admire his arms as he bobbed in and out of the water, hitting the ball with his forearm.

Raven followed Clarke’s eye line, lifting a slightly impressed eyebrow at her while she took a sip from her drink. She could feel the heat of the camera behind her, tracking their every move, the mic lowered a little more at her hint, a subtle urge for her to divulge further.

“Color me impressed…”

“It’s nothing serious—we’re just having a good time.”

“From what I’ve heard, if Bellamy is even looking at you, it’s serious.”

Clarke’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at that, she hadn’t really pegged Bellamy for a relationships-only type of guy, he certainly got more than enough attention. She wished she had the foresight to watch Gina’s season all the way through, maybe his heart was broken by the producers too? They probably did fuck him over at least a little bit, nobody who hated them this much didn’t get screwed over at least a little bit.

It was kind of crazy, it felt like they knew each other super well…but in reality, they only spent a few hours together, she barely knew anything about him. Their time was mostly dedicated to hatching their masterplan and detailing all the ways they were going to dupe the cameras, they never talked about themselves. The only things she knew about him was that he was on The Bachelorette and his sister was married to a former Bachelor, which in the grand scheme of life, were two hugely unimportant things.

In the tangle of her thoughts, she hadn’t noticed the volleyball game break up or Bellamy making a beeline toward her. By the time she fully registered what was going on, his hand was trailing up her thigh and her entire brain drained out of her ear.

This wasn’t going to be as simple as she thought.

Ideally, she should’ve done this with someone she wasn’t stupidly attracted to, like Jasper, someone she never in a million years would consider having sex with. That would have been the easiest way to pull this off without her body getting in the way, but it probably wouldn’t have been nearly as convincing. The cameras were eating this up, the entire crew had basically crowded around their little corner of the pool, focused intently on their interaction.

At least they weren’t asking her about Finn anymore.

Bellamy’s hand continued its way up her thigh, trailing all the up to rest against the curve of her ass. Despite the voice in her head telling her not to, she wrapped a leg around his body, pulling him closer toward her. He didn’t seem to mind, lining their bodies up in a tight press while his fingers flexed into her skin.

“Did you see me absolutely destroy Zeke in that game?” he murmured against her ear, the phrase itself decidedly unsexy but the delivery of it sending a shiver down her spine. He smelled like chlorine and sunscreen, breath tinged with lemonade and a touch of alcohol, she wanted him closer, wanted to bury her face into his neck. But she needed to compose herself, this wasn’t real, she needed to remember the cameras, they were putting on a show here, not giving them an eyeful. It was all physical, she hadn’t been touched like this in a long time, even with Finn their interactions were limited and scripted. This felt candid, heated—a little more real than she would’ve liked.

“You definitely have an unfair advantage,” she teased, running her hands up and down his sides, skating her fingers against his damp skin. Her thumb brushed lightly against the ridge of his abs, sending another wave of heat through her body.

“Okay, you caught me, I played in college,” he admitted, hanging his head in a way that could only be described as adorably sheepish. Well, that was something. It was small, but it was the first non-Bachelor related thing he had told her about himself.

“You would be a jock…”

“Hey now, I was very multifaceted.”

“Let me guess you also played basketball?”

“Nobody likes a know it all Clarke…”

“You do—” she smirked, pulling him closer, just enough that their noses brushed. Her pulse was thudding her ear, every ridge of Bellamy’s body lined up with hers.

He surged forward, pecking the lightest kiss possible to her lips. It was so quick, if she hadn’t felt it, she would’ve missed it. Before she could even respond, it was over. As if it was the most natural thing in the world, he pulled her into a hug, keeping their bodies close together without pushing it any further. It was nice, comfortable, it felt good to be held like this. Bellamy’s arms felt safe, like right now there was nothing else except for this.

Except, that she couldn’t feel like this, couldn’t fall for this again. What was it about this show that made her act like an insane person? She would never fall for this in the real world, why did the cameras make her feel like everything was moving at 10x speed?

This was fake. They were putting on a show. Bellamy was doing this for the press, not because he wanted to be holding her like this. Not that she wanted or needed this either, after Finn, she needed a long break from guys. Her body just wasn’t cooperating with the plan as well as she had hoped.

The cameras eventually lost interest in watching them hug and moved over to where Jasper was making a fumbling attempt at flirting with Maya. It wasn’t going very well, he was misquoting Shakespeare and also was about two steps away from accidentally falling into the pool.

“Holy shit she actually likes him back,” Bellamy murmured, pulling back so he could follow the path of the cameras. He didn’t move very far through, one arm remained firmly wrapped around Clarke’s torso. An arm she was trying desperately to ignore.

“She’s quirky too, it kind of fits in a weird way,” she laughed, playing with the curls at the base of Bellamy’s neck as they watched Jasper spill a Pina Colada onto Maya’s leg. “When we were trapped in the mansion together, she used to do these fake tea leaf readings, definitely made those long nights waiting for Finn to console Josephine while she cried, more enjoyable.”

“Now why don’t they show that on the show? I would watch the hell out of fake tea leaf readings.”

“It’s not as sexy I guess,” she shrugged, suppressing the urge to whine when Bellamy eased himself out of her arms. Before she could mourn the loss though, he yanked her into the pool, dunking her into the water in the process. She was soaked, and suddenly very grateful that she hadn’t worn any makeup.

They wrestled in the water, pulling each other down under the waterfall. It was making a mess, and they received quite a few glares from people who were trying not to get their hair or faces wet, but this was the most fun Clarke had had in months.

“You’re going to pay for that,” she yelled, flinging herself out of the water so she could land on Bellamy’s back. She missed slightly, ending up with her legs wrapped around his waist, and her center pressed right up against the front of his swim shorts.

Reflexively, his arms flung out, grabbing her ass and holding her more tightly against his body. From this position, she could feel— _everything,_ and she didn’t exactly hate it.

His hips rocked against hers subtly, hitting her in just the right place to cause a small moan to escape from her lips. This didn’t feel like it did when they were doing this before, she wanted him to keep going because it felt incredible. She hadn’t gotten much action since The Bachelor, in fact, she basically went into hiding for months afterward, only leaving her apartment to get groceries and go to the gym.

This was the first time she had been touched in a _really_ long time and she really didn’t want it to stop.

It was her turn to lean forward and kiss him, a little harder than they had before. It was still tame, especially in the realm of reality TV kissing, but it was enough to elicit hoots and catcalls from the people around them.

“Hook, line and sinker,” Bellamy murmured against her lips, pulling away to tilt his head toward the heard of cameras that had returned to their area of the pool.

Right, this was fake, she reminded herself again.

Ache between her thighs aside, this was good, the producers totally bought it, in fact, it seemed like everyone bought into it. Any mention of her season was long gone and for the most part, they were being left alone. This was exactly what she had wanted, no strings, minimal questions and yet, she couldn’t help but miss the warmth of Bellamy’s hands around her waist.

***

Time in paradise moved in slow motion, the days felt like weeks, ticking by slowly, only indicated by the position of the burning sun in the sky, It was easy to see how they made it seem like they were here for months, there wasn’t much else to do and people were acting like caged rats. In total, they would spend less than a month here, and by the end, some of these people would leave engaged.

Clarke wondered who would leave here engaged as she lay on the beach, soft white sand ticking her toes with her head pillowed on the firm expanse of Bellamy’s chest. This was how they had spent the past few days, just lying on the beach, comparing the shapes of clouds, making up drinking games, telling random stories about their childhoods. It was nice, comfortable, in the span of less than a week, Bellamy had become one of her best friends. She barely spoke to anyone else but him, but it wasn’t like she was missing anything.

She was getting better at pushing away her desires as the week had gone on and even though her urge to climb Bellamy like a tree was only growing stronger, the more times they made out by the pool or he wrapped her up in his arms, the more normalized it became to her. There were times when even she forgot they weren’t really dating. It was getting harder and harder to separate what was fake from what was real. The more of Bellamy she got to know, the more she liked him. He was funny, smart, nice, pretty much perfect, even though she was more confused than ever and definitely backtracking on her no boys rule, she was glad she had picked him.

The producers were eating it up too, she was pretty sure they were going to get an amazing edit.

There was a rose ceremony last night, it was relatively uneventful, save for a love triangle between Josephine, Murphy and a new guy who had shown up when Clarke did. Most of their filming time went into overdramatized scripted fighting, chock full of tears.

With all the mess, Bellamy and Clarke’s stable, cute relationship slid under the radar of the producers. They mainly only got included in shots when they were snuggling or chatting aimlessly about what their favorite kind of whale was. Russell even called them one of the strongest couples when he was handing out the roses to the guys, commending them on their genuine connection. It had taken all of Clarke’s willpower to keep from snorting. This show wouldn’t know genuine if it smacked them across the face.

“Do you think people actually fall in love here?” Clarke asked, glancing over at Monty and Harper, they sure looked like they were in love. It was wild, they only met two weeks ago, but they already acted like an old married couple. Everyone was rooting for them to work out, they were so wholesome, Clarke hoped this franchise wouldn’t ruin them. They deserved to ride off into the sunset with an expensive ring and a pocketful of lucrative brand deals to live their cute lives together.

“My sister met her husband in this franchise, so I guess anything is possible,” he shrugged, following her gaze and smiling softly.

“It took me forever to realize that your sister is Octavia Blake, Lincoln’s season is my favorite one, it was the first one I ever watched, and it totally spoiled me. He was so sweet with her, I loved how he said he didn’t want to do The Fantasy Suites at all because it would be disrespectful to Octavia. You could tell from the beginning that he really, really cared about her.”

“Don’t get me wrong, he is a great guy, I love him like a brother, but things were different back then, Instagram was barely a thing, you definitely couldn’t make money off of it or anything. I hate myself for saying this, but people used to go on the show ‘for the right reasons’”.

“Bachelor bingo, take a shot!” Clarke interrupted, chuckling to herself as Bellamy glared at her, adjusting his grip around her shoulders so he could sit up to take a sip from his beer.

“But, **as I was saying** , I don’t know if something like that is even possible now, there’s just so much drama and the producers do all sorts of fucked up shit. I mean you know better than anyone, they fucked up both of our seasons so badly.”

“Wait, what happened on Gina’s season?”

“How did you not hear about it?” he asked, eyebrows knitting together like he was trying to figure out whether or not she was joking. “Didn’t you think it was weird that there was no F1?”

“I basically became a hermit after the finale aired, didn’t leave my apartment, didn’t talk to anyone, at one point I threw my phone off the balcony of my apartment. It was…not the healthiest, but I couldn’t really deal with what people were saying, or with the fact that someone who I thought cared about me screwed me over so badly. After I recovered a little, I tried to catch up on Gina’s season but it was just too hard to watch. I always liked her, I was glad they gave it to her after me and Raven vanished into the night, she really deserved to find someone nice. But seeing all the dates, being able to pick out all the places where the producers were clearly messing with the narrative, it was too much. It made me feel stupid that I didn’t see it all, that I actually believed it was all real,” she admitted, words tumbling out in a choked heap. She hadn’t really told anyone about this, never said out loud exactly what happened after the cameras turned off. Even now, she wasn’t sure why she was telling him all this, but it didn’t feel like he was judging her, he just nodded, giving her a sad smile as his arms tightened around her, a soothing hand running up and down the length of her spine.

“Well they didn’t learn their lesson unfortunately, they messed with Gina’s head pretty badly too. We were about to leave for Argentina when she decided she didn’t want to film anymore. Nobody really knows what happened, but I guess it was just too much. The producers planted in a few guys that were real pieces of work. They always encouraged her to talk to them the most, and they didn’t really help point out any of the red flags. I don’t know much, but whenever we would hear her talking to them it was clear they were just egging her on. I think it really messed her up. She didn’t pick any of us, didn’t even tell us she was leaving, one morning we just woke up and it was over.”

Clarke stared at him wide-eyed. It was completely believable that all of that had happened, but it still totally caught her off guard. She had been wondering why Bellamy had such a deep hatred for production, why he seemed so dead set of fucking with this whole thing as much as possible. But this checked out, this gave him plenty of reason to want some petty revenge.

“She deserved better than that, Gina’s a really good person,” he finished with a small, sad smile. It made Clarke’s chest feel tight, he obviously cared a lot about Gina and was really hurt by what happened.

“We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?” she sighed, burying her head in the crook of his neck, it was an unexpectedly heavy moment, the weight of their shared disappointment hanging in the air.

“We’ll be okay…” he said softly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. It was gentle and assuring, more of a way to soothe her than anything else.

It was hard to believe that a man like this would want to go anywhere near The Bachelor, but damn was Clarke glad he did. Even if it hadn’t worked out well for either of them, this moment in the sand, with the purple haze of darkness filling the sky, made her feel grateful for this dumb franchise. She wasn’t really sure what she and Bellamy were to each other anymore, close friends? Friends with benefits? Partners in crime? But whatever they were, as long as he kept holding her like this, she didn’t really care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a one-shot but famous last words amirite…
> 
> I just kind of wanted to write something fun and unemotional, I feel like all my fics have super deep romance and a lot of heavy emotions so it's nice to just write fluffy trash with unrealistic pacing. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy :)


	2. Genuine and Real

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was really nervous to post this because the premise is so goofy but I'm so happy y'all are liking it!!

A long row of roses laid on the small wooden table, short-stemmed this week, just the perfect length to pin on the guy’s jackets. They were nestled away in the corner, just close enough to loom over them but far enough away to not be too big of a distraction.

For now, they were corralled in an area with festive, slightly stereotypical Mexican furniture, forced to flirt with one another until it was time for The Rose Ceremony. Clarke sipped on her watered down Margarita, tilting her head to rest on Bellamy’s shoulder while they watched Jasper helplessly stare at Maya and Zeke while they walked down to the beach.

It was kind of sad, he had been doing so well, but it was hard for him to compete with tall, dark and handsome. In the fight between Jasper and Zeke, it seemed like Maya had gone with the latter. Unfortunately, Jasper wasn’t taking it well, everyone, including him, knew that without Maya’s rose he would probably go home.

“It’s her loss bud,” Bellamy said encouragingly, pushing a beer into Jasper’s hand when he flopped down on the couch.

“I just can’t handle not being around her…” Jasper moaned miserably, it almost sounded like there was an edge of tears in his voice. “Everything was going so well; I can’t believe this happened.”

“There’s going to be other girls,” Clarke tried, extracting herself from under Bellamy’s arm so she could sit on Jasper’s other side. They had somehow turned into group therapists, soothing everyone else’s broken hearts. Maybe it was their Bachelor Nation trauma showing, but this wouldn’t be the first time they had to give a pre-rose ceremony motivational speech.

“Not like Maya. I’m glad I’m getting sent home tonight, there’s nobody else for me here.”

“You don’t know that you’re going home…”

“Ugh, of course, you guys don’t get it. You’re two hot people with a perfect relationship!” he whined, chugging the entire bottle of beer in one go.

Clarke winced, glancing over at Bellamy over Jasper’s head. People had been talking about them like that a lot lately, it was enough to make her feel almost guilty about the whole lie. Sure, it was nice to have the producers chasing them around, literally begging them for clips of them being cute together, but they were lying to everyone else here too. She didn’t really care about Josephine or Murphy but letting Harper and Raven root for a relationship that didn’t exist made her feel like shit.

“Don’t listen to Lucy and Ricky’s terrible advice, you need to go fight for your girl,” Murphy chimed in, appearing from out of nowhere with his shirt unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest and a coconut full of bright blue liquid in one hand.

“Now that is terrible advice, do not fight Zeke,” Bellamy snapped, using his body to block Murphy out of the conversation.

“Zeke sucks anyway, he uses his podcast to sleep with girls in college.”

“He does what!?!” Jasper yelled, standing up so fast he almost knocked over a side table. “Do you think Maya knows?”

“Jasper, no,” Clarke tried, throwing a hand out to keep him from running out into the beach…but it was too late. It was kind of like watching a car accident in slow motion, seeing Jasper sprinting across the sand and nearly throwing himself into the cabana where Zeke and Maya were sitting.

“God Murphy you’re such a fucking asshole, why do you always have to do that?” she yelled, not even bothering to keep her voice down, the cameras were already on her, she might as well take the moment to make him look like the ass that he was.

“It’s just my calling, I guess. You guys were just telling him to sit down and take it, at least now he might have a chance at getting her back.”

Clarke was about to snap at him again when the beginnings of yells floated up from the beach, she felt oddly protective over Jasper and the sounds of it sent a wave of panic through her entire body. If something bad happened, she was actually going to kill Murphy.

The yelling escalated and from where they were standing, they could see a few cameramen sprinting across the beach, running directly toward the area where the confrontation was happening. Everyone was mic’d, so they knew exactly what was going on and there was no way that they were going to put a stop to it. In fact, one of the producers was practically foaming at the mouth as he watched whatever the cameras were filming on a tiny phone screen. This was like Christmas morning for them, natural drama, probably a lot more entertaining than whatever manufactured bullshit they had scripted for Josephine.

The yelling continued, pieces of conversations about podcasts leaked through, followed with a slew of insults on both ends. Clarke flopped back onto the couch, allowing half of her body to drape over Bellamy’s casually. This was just stupid drama, nothing catastrophic or world ending, it would probably take a while, at least she would be able to finish her painfully weak Margarita.

Usually, when dramatic stuff like this happened, everyone else just had to sit around until it was over, nobody could move or speak above a whisper because it might ruin a shot. They would probably be here until late into the night, the rose ceremony pushed back until this fight had been squeezed for everything it was worth.

Bellamy tucked his head into the crook of her neck, nuzzling lightly into her skin as he closed his eyes. It was warm and comfortable, familiar, the kind of gesture that real couples did all the time. It shouldn’t feel like a big deal but feeling his breath against her skin like this was shockingly intimate.

She closed her eyes carefully, resting her head on top of his, allowing the salty smell of his hair and the sharp, woodsy sting of his cologne to soothe her. The warmth of his skin against hers, mixed with the comfort of having him close, was enough to make her feel drowsy. The effects of the sun and the alcohol weighed down on her, lulling her to sleep.

Things with Bellamy were so nice, so easy, obviously, it was due in part to the fact that they weren’t actually dating, but even beyond that, she had never felt so at ease with a guy. There were no pretenses when they were together, he just took her where she was at. She never felt pressured to be bubbly or cutesy when she didn’t want to be, it was such a stark change from the uptight, controlled version of herself she had been on The Bachelor. Even though the cameras were still around, she barely cared about them at all anymore, for the first time in a long time, she felt like herself.

They had both almost drifted off to sleep when there was a sharp crash and suddenly the small cocktail area erupted into a frenzy.

“Shut it down, shut it down right now! I swear if—” the producer closest to them shrieked into a walkie-talkie, dropping his clipboard to the floor while another producer threw all his gear onto a nearby couch so he could sprint to the beach.

Both Clarke and Bellamy sprung up, suddenly wide awake. Every warm and fuzzy feeling from before drained from her body as the entire production crew crowded around the cabana. The cameras laid sideways in the sand, the red lights clicked off.

This was bad, not drama bad, actually bad. If they had stopped filming, something serious had gone down.

“Can you see anything?” she whispered, standing on her tiptoes so she could see further over the railing.

“Not really, it’s too dark…”

“I’m going to fucking kill Murphy.”

“It’s not all on Murphy, we heard that red-headed producer tell him the thing about the podcast,” Harper chimed in, bumping her hip against Clarke’s as she and Monty came up beside them to peek over the railing.

“Why is that not surprising at all…” Bellamy sighed, running a hand through his hair while he leaned heavily on the concrete wall.

“I’m really worried, I heard one of them radio for medical attention and considering the size differences involved I’m pretty sure it’s for Jasper,” Monty said, wrapping an arm around Harper’s shoulders tightly as he spoke. It was clear he was genuinely distressed about the situation, worried about how badly Jasper had been hurt.

“They’re going to take care of him, mainly for liability purposes, but still,” Harper assured, rubbing her hand gently against his cheek. He closed his eyes, nuzzling against her palm, body visibly relaxing from her touch.

Clarke had been skeptical about the validity of this process, but Harper and Monty were proof that on occasion, beyond logic, this did work sometimes. They were soulmates, there was no doubting that. She was happy for them, glad that Harper had found someone who understood her so well, but she couldn’t help the small stab of jealousy too. What they had was genuine, it was real, they would leave this stupid resort and get to be together in the real world, there was a future for them beyond this beach.

Recently she had been letting herself indulge in the fantasy of her and Bellamy out in the real world, not necessarily in a romantic sense, they weren’t like that, but just existing together. She would take him to her favorite coffee shop off 14th street, he seemed like the kind of person who would order a black coffee, nothing fancy and let all the cats crawl all over his lap even though he wasn’t a cat person. Maybe they would go to the movies, at the weird times when nobody else went and talk through the whole thing, throw popcorn at the screen during the bad parts.

But that probably wouldn’t happen.

Sure, they were close now, but after all of this was over, they would go back to their real lives, back to the real world, a world where they didn’t need each other to survive. She hoped they would stay friends, but it probably wouldn’t be to the level of closeness they had reached here, surely he had other people he wanted to hang out with, his own coffee shops to spend the afternoon at.

She would just have to enjoy the time they had now, whatever was left of it anyway.

The soft mumble of the people around them shook Clarke out of her musings, the cameras were back on and the crowd had parted to accommodate for the crew to park themselves by the entrance. Considering how quickly everything had bounced back, it probably wasn’t that big of an emergency.

“Please tell me that’s the doctor…” Bellamy murmured, tilting his chin toward a skinny man in a baggy white coat with what looked like a plastic stethoscope around his neck, he was even holding a little black doctor bag like they did in movies. The guy looked like he had only ever seen doctors in porn, let alone gone to medical school.

“How much do you want to bet he’s going to put a giant band-aid on him like they did on Niylah’s chin last season?” Harper giggled, their serious mood from earlier dissolving while they watched the child doctor struggle to walk through the sand.

“I bet it’s one of those plastic band-aid bracelets that come in kid’s doctor kits,” Bellamy added, snorting on his words.

“It’ll go great with his little stethoscope,” Monty chuckled, the smile cracking on the corners of his face the last push they needed to dissolve into full-blown hysterical laughter of the situation.

One of the producers turned to glare at them, he was typing furiously on his phone, eyes fixed on the screen in front of him showing what was going down on the beach. There was probably a team of lawyers working on this as they spoke, formulating the best way for them to include this disaster in the show without getting sued.

They quieted slightly, shoulders still shaking with laughter as they made fun of the cartoon doctor and speculated over what was going on. With the knowledge that Jasper wasn’t injured enough for an ambulance, it was like a weight had been lifted off their shoulders. They didn’t really have anything to worry about, the rose ceremony was more of a formality for them anyway. It was likely that they were stuck here until everything calmed down until production decided whether or not to just let them go to bed or if they were going to hold them here all night.

***

It was almost three A.M by the time things quieted down and the producers finally finished their frantic typing and aggressive phone calls. Jasper had yet to emerge from his spot on the beach, neither had Maya, but Zeke had been escorted out by a rather large Mexican man about an hour ago. Russell had gathered them all on the couches, forcing them to squeeze together on the too-small cushions.

It was a tight squeeze, Bellamy had pulled Clarke into his lap, positioning her so that she was draped across his legs. The position was kind of intimate for a group setting, but it was infinitely more comfortable than having Ontari’s elbow digging into her side, so she wasn’t exactly complaining. The atmosphere of this conversation seemed oddly serious considering the fake doctor and the fact that the cameras had turned back on within minutes, Russell stood at the front of the room, chiseled features schooled into a neutral expression.

“Obviously we have had some pretty serious stuff happen here tonight,” he began, switching his gaze between the group and the camera as he spoke, somehow managing to make what should’ve been an awkward transition look natural and seamless. “Let me be the first to say that ABC, The Bachelor, and all related franchises don’t condone physical violence, especially regarding intimate partners. What happened today was unacceptable and Zeke has been asked to leave, we have a zero-tolerance policy for physically abusive behavior here. We care about your safety first and foremost and having him here was a risk to the safety of the group as a whole. Ultimately, we have decided to continue filming as it would not be fair to all of you to hold you accountable for the actions of one person. Jasper is doing fine, he’s suffered a few mild contusions but is otherwise going to be okay, he’s currently being treated by a medical professional.”

Both Bellamy and Monty snorted at the mention of the doctor, but Russell ignored them, continuing with his perfectly crafted PR statement.

“The rose ceremony is canceled tonight, we will film it tomorrow after everyone has had time to process what happened here. If anybody needs to talk or needs emotional support please feel free to reach out to me or anyone else on the production team, we are here to help you. I would also like to ask you to give Jasper and Maya some space, they are still recovering from tonight and need some time to decompress,” he finished, flashing them a perfect, shiny sad smile.

Bellamy and Clarke shared a look, both suppressing the urge to roll their eyes at how disingenuous the whole speech was. The producers had created this disaster by dropping the podcast thing to Murphy, they had fueled this fire and now they were pretending to be surprised that it burned someone. This speech was nothing but a way to ensure they wouldn’t get sued. The whole thing left a bad taste in her mouth.

They all branched out pretty soon after the half-assed speech, everyone seemed muted by the amount of drama that had transpired coupled with the extremely late night. Clarke was partly exhausted, her quick nap from before made her long for sleep but she was also wired from all the excitement. The thought of separating with Bellamy further up in the path made her feel itchy, she wanted to keep talking, to pick apart that ridiculous speech. So despite the call of her bed, she pulled gently on his arm, leading him away from the group.

“Is everything okay?” he asked quietly, pulling on their joint hands so that she was pressed up against his side.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine, I’m just kind of reeling over what happened,” she shrugged, tilting her chin so she could glance up at him.

He smirked back, raising an eyebrow at her, “You just wanted to hang out…”

“What! No!” she blushed, wracking her brain to come up with another reason as to why she had dragged them away from their respective beds.

“Hey, I’m not complaining, Miller snores, this is a welcome break,” he grinned, walking back a few steps before falling backward onto one of the beach cabanas. Their hands were still joined, and she tumbled after him, falling onto the plush mattress with a soft thud.

It was surprisingly comfortable for an outdoor bed and she sagged into it, allowing herself to embrace the coziness. Bellamy nudged her slightly, moving her to make room for himself before lifting his arm so that she could snuggle under it.

It wasn’t until after she had pillowed her head on his chest that it occurred to her that they didn’t have to do this, nobody was watching them right now. For once, the cameras were giving it a rest, it was just the two of them and the sound of the ocean. There was nobody to impress, nobody to fool, but there wasn’t a single bone in her body that wanted to move.

These causal touches had become such a huge part of their relationship, it only felt natural to hug him or snuggle in close. With so many people on the beach and the cameras constantly around, they had never actually been alone, so they always had to have the couple behavior turned on.

Being alone didn’t make her want to pull away though if anything it made her want to pull him even closer. He was so warm, so firm, the perfect pillow really. With his arms around her, she felt safe and warm, totally at ease.

The woosh of the ocean and the steady rise and fall of Bellamy’s chest lulled her sleep, filling her body with cozy, weighted warmth, a private moment of intimacy just between the two of them. It felt good, so good that it caused something in her chest to twist. But now wasn’t the time to address that, for now, she was just going to enjoy this stolen moment for just them.

***

To say privacy didn’t exist in Bachelor Nation was—an understatement. Clarke felt the bright light of the sun filtering through her eyelids, coupled with the inexplicable feeling of being watched. She could feel Bellamy’s arm wrapped around her waist, the press of his chest against her back. As much as she wanted to turn around and bury her face in his neck, she couldn’t shake the urge to open her eyes, to make sure that the coast was clear.

Sure enough, there was a camera hovering less than two feet away from her face, a giant boom mic floating next to it.

Ahh, what a relaxing way to start the day.

Beside her Bellamy stirred, his eyes fluttering open as he greeted her with a sleepy smile.

It should’ve been a private moment, a sweet, soft smile first thing in the morning, but all Clarke could focus on was the heat of the overhead light from the camera. With an equally gentle smile, she reached out smoothing back his messy curls and flicked her eyes toward the camera.

Within seconds, his smile dropped, arms unraveling from around her as he whipped up. “Can you give us ten minutes to wake up?”

“Anything on the beach is fair game,” one of the light guys shrugged, lifting his cable slightly to accommodate Bellamy’s sitting height.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, clearly debating whether to let it go or instigate another fight on the beach. Wanting to defuse the situation as much as possible, Clarke pressed a kiss to the corner of Bellamy’s jaw, running a soothing hand down his arm as she guided him off the small, covered bed. He looked at her with an almost pained expression, clearly thrown off by the shock of the cameras since he barely said a word during their walk back to their rooms.

Despite their odd sleeping position and the openness of the cameras, Clarke felt oddly well-rested. Bellamy had mumbled something about taking a nap, but Clarke decided to take her time alone for some much needed mental clarity, she didn’t really need more sleep anyway. It had been a while since she had done anything without Bellamy by her side, it would be nice to get a run in, to check in with herself. After what had happened with Finn, she had promised herself that she would pay more attention to her mental health. She was prone to anxiety and thought spirals, without frequent check-ins she got self-destructive pretty quickly. Running had always been a way for her to center her thoughts, for her to focus solely on her body and her brain, it had been a while since she got a few miles in, it would be good for her.

After a quick chat with Raven, while she got dressed, she started off on a light jog, giving her body some time to adjust to the movement of her feet against the sand. Her legs burned from the effort and her lungs struggled to keep up with her pace, it really had been a while since she had done this, but the feel of the warm, salty air against her face was enough to push her to keep going.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.

The only thing she was focused on was the sound of her heartbeat in her ears, the same sound she had listened to as she fell asleep last night. Except that heartbeat hadn’t been her own, it had been Bellamy’s.

Everything about their relationship/friendship/partnership was confusing her, sure, she had been attracted to him from the start, but at some point, this had shifted past a physical desire. She really liked spending time with him…she liked the person that she was around him.

Clarke wasn’t really extroverted by nature, she loved people, loved socializing, but it often made her feel worn out. She had always done best by herself. Maybe it was a product of being an only child or maybe it was the product of her passion for solo activities like art and running. Whatever it was, it was rare that she found someone she could spend time with without needing a break.

Bellamy was one of those rare people. When they were together, she never found herself longing for those moments alone, she wanted their interactions to draw out, to last beyond their natural ending point. They had only known each other for a week and a half and been friends for an even shorter amount of time, but it felt like they were bonded like he was a constant part of her life now.

Last night had been the first time they had been alone since they had hatched up this little plan, and they didn’t even discuss it. In fact, they rarely acknowledged the fakeness of their relationship between themselves. Maybe that’s why it was getting so confusing?

Sometimes it was hard to keep her head in the game of it all when Bellamy was so warm and affectionate with her, to be honest, there wasn’t much separating them from the way the other couples were acting. Last night, she had totally lost sight of their original plan, all she had cared about was spending more time with him—not that he really seemed to be bothered by it, if anything he encouraged her.

Clarke got lost in the train of her thoughts while she ran, zoning out almost completely as she worked through what had made her initiate an entire night of cuddling. It wasn’t really getting her anywhere, she always found herself circling back to hyper analyzing Bellamy’s behavior. The whole thing was making her feel ridiculous. Sure, they got along really well, always had a great time together, and he was a really good kisser, but all these feelings were a product of an environment that was built to make you feel infatuated. Her brain was getting muddled by the proximity and constant contact, this break would be good. If she could go the entire day without seeing him, maybe all these confusing emotions would go away. She wished she could talk to someone about this, get an outside perspective, but her phone was locked up in someone’s office and everyone on the beach had no idea what was going on.

She collapsed onto the sand, chest heaving from the exertion of running what was probably several miles. In her attempt to clear her mind, she had strayed fairly far down from the filming area. A new person had shown up on the beach right as she had set out so the producers hadn’t noticed she was missing. It was kind of strange, from here she could see the life of the nearby town, locals going about their day. A few feet down there was a family on the beach, people who probably had no idea what The Bachelor was.

A small part of her wanted to step into the crowd, to get lost in it, to wander away and never give this stupid show a second thought. But something was holding her back, the feeling that there were things left on the beach she couldn’t leave unfinished. As much as this whole thing was giving her a headache, and the producers drove her crazy, she couldn’t leave Bellamy like that.

Although, she did wonder what he would do if she left…would he leave too? Would he find someone else to fake date? Or maybe even real date?

The idea of that made something ugly furrow into her stomach, a small pang of—jealousy? Except that she didn’t really have any right to be jealous, they didn’t have any real commitment to each other. Bellamy could very well decide that the new girl who just showed up was his soulmate and their fake relationship would be over.

She was losing her mind, this was ridiculous, the show was getting to her. Bellamy’s voice was practically echoing in her ears—

“Clarke!!!” a voice called, causing her to tear her eyes away from the small town and turn back toward the beach, eyebrows furrowed with confusion over who could possibly calling her name. She thought she was going crazy but hearing voices seemed a little over the top.

The yelling, it turned out, was not her imagination nor was it Bellamy. There were two producers, riding in a comically ornate ABC branded golf cart, speeding toward her while waving a clipboard in the air. One of them had a look of absolute panic on her face as they drew to a halt in front of her, spraying sand ten feet in every direction.

“I was just going on a jog, I promise,” she sighed, sweeping the surrounding areas for cameras and hoping desperately that they weren’t going to try and spin this into an escape attempt.

“Calm down there are no cameras, we can’t film you in the public areas,” he said irritably, gesturing for her to get into the back of the cart. “Your microphones give off a signal if you leave a certain radius.”

“Of course, you track us…” she sighed, throwing one last look at the town over her shoulder as she got into the cart. She should’ve run away when she had the chance, confusing feelings about Bellamy be damned.

“It’s for liability purposes, if you got kidnapped over here then we need to know.”

“That was kind of racist don’t you think?”

“You can get kidnapped anywhere, it was just an example,” he answered defensively, turning the golf cart around and hauling her back to the beach.

Just before they drove into the filming area, she tapped on the producer’s shoulder, indicating for him to stop the cart.

“Did you forget something?” he groaned, clearly over this whole ordeal and the time he had wasted retrieving her.

“Nope, just wanted to walk the rest of the way,” she said cheekily, hopping out of the side of the cart before he had a chance to react. There was something weird about this still, it didn’t check out that they would waste resources on retrieving her without at least trying to get a storyline out of it. Honestly, she should’ve paid more attention, it had been kind of dumb to wander off like that.

But her instincts had been right, there was a camera waiting for her when she walked back and she waved her fingers boldly at them, “Beautiful day isn’t it?” she called, smiling brightly. There would definitely have been some editing funny business if she had been riding in the golf cart, but there wasn’t much they could do with her walking on the beach, especially if she directly acknowledged the camera.

It had probably been a step too far, but she didn’t have the mental energy for this today, the incident from last night had left a bad taste in her mouth and her emotions were all over the place right now. The last thing she needed was to end up in the middle of a set-up.

“I told them to cast Finn’s season with 24-year-old’s…but nobody ever listens to me, do they?” she heard one of the producer's mutter, smirking to herself as she picked back up into a jog and made her way over to where Bellamy was lying in the sand reading a thick book.

“Did you know the only book they have on the entire set is The Bible?” he said, setting the book down on his chest so he could squint at her, a pair of wire reading glasses balanced on his nose.

It was painfully endearing, like a peek into what Bellamy was like outside of all this, what he probably looked like on a Sunday afternoon in his apartment. The sight of it made her chest tighten, and all the clarity she had found on her illegal adventure slipping away.

She had missed him. A lot.

There was a sense of relief that they were back together again, she had grown used to his constant presence. All she had wanted to do while she was riding in that golf cart was tell him about her ridiculous morning, about the sleepy little town, how good it felt to dodge the producers.

Shit.

This wasn’t good.

That was the kind of thoughts people had about people they were dating—not fake dating, real dating. Somehow, despite her best efforts, she was falling for Bellamy, which would be fine, except for the fact that they were being filmed 24-7 and he thought they were just really good friends who made out sometimes.

There was no way this could end except badly.

***

“So today’s my date with Clarke, I’m pretty excited about it honestly. I mean we’re been seeing each other for a while but it’s nice to be able to go out on a real date and leave the beach together,” Bellamy said, delivery stilted and awkward, almost like he was reading something off a teleprompter. Clarke wasn’t sure how he managed to make it as far as he did on The Bachelorette considering how uncomfortable his delivery of scripted lines was but it was kind of endearing…even if this was the third time they all had to listen to him say it.

“Try again Bellamy, and this time try to make it sound less like you’re being held hostage,” the producer sighed, gesturing for the cameras to reset.

They went through the scene two or three more times until it was an acceptable level of natural, before they switched over to an equally canned talking head from Clarke about how she just so crazy about Bellamy and she couldn’t imagine spending the day with anyone else.

At least everything she was saying was true, even if it was someone else’s words. These talking heads were by far the least genuine part of the show, it was kind of just a way for the producers to break the fourth wall and to give the audience a glimpse into people’s thoughts. Most of the time it was a peek into the storyline they were trying to build for the show and based on the script they had been given, their fake romance was being well received.

Thankfully, they only had to film hers once, Bellamy’s had taken much longer than they had expected, and it was obvious they were rushing things in an attempt to use as much daylight as possible. They did Raven’s next, forcing her to say the word spicy three times and roll her “r” twice about her relationship, both of which seemed highly unnecessary in the scheme of the conversation.

“In case you forgot…I’m Latina,” she said irritably, flopping down on the wooden bench beside Clarke and Bellamy while they waited for Wick to finish his filming.

“It’s totally gross that they keep doing that,” Bellamy agreed, shaking his head in exasperation over what they had just watched.

“I think it’s worse because we’re in Mexico, like God forbid we interact with anyone actually from here, let’s use Raven as a prop instead,” she sighed shaking her head, as Wick flexed his arms for the camera.

“You could say something about it to them, they’ve super image-obsessed I’m sure if you mentioned that you think it's racist they’ll stop,” Bellamy tried, giving Raven a sympathetic look that kind of made Clarke feel like she should step back from the conversation. A lot was going on here that she didn’t really understand and that she couldn’t really give worthwhile input toward. She had definitely noticed that kind of behavior from the producers too though, and surely if she had picked up on it then it was worse for Raven and Bellamy, who were more directly affected by it.

“I can’t wait for this whole thing to be over,” Wick sighed, running a hand through his hair as he watched Raven and Bellamy talk, it seemed like he had come to the same conclusion that they needed space.

Clarke exhaled slowly, part of her wanted to agree, but knowing that leaving meant the end for her and Bellamy made it hard to. Even though the producers drove her crazy and the cameras were always in their faces, being able to spend time together was a worthy price.

“I’ve been wanting to tell Raven that we should just leave,” he murmured, lowering his voice so that the overhead mics wouldn’t catch their conversation. “But I’m just a grad student and we would never be able to afford the kind of ring that they give you at the end of this. She deserves that after everything she’s been through, so I’m sticking it out.”

Her heart softened at that; she was genuinely happy that Raven had found someone who cared about her so much. Yet another genuinely wonderful couple who managed to find each other on this stupid show. Maybe this season was a fluke, the product of two seasons of leads who didn’t quite do their jobs right. Things usually never worked out so well, there had barely been any crying. It was probably why production seemed so desperate for drama, it wasn’t going to be a very exciting season.

“They’re making money off you, might as well get something in return,” she agreed, elbowing Wick’s side fondly.

Wick laughed, leaning forward to continue the joke when one of the producers yelled that it was time for them to move on to their date.

Within minutes, a serious-looking man appeared among the crew, handing them each a liability waiver and delving into an in-depth lecture about how ABC was not responsible for any injuries they may sustain while on the date and that if those chose to participate it would be at their own discretion.

Clarke scanned the waiver, scribbling her name across the bottom while she half-listened to the ABC guy give his talk.

“Did you read that thing before you signed it?” Bellamy whispered, eyeing her already signed paper wearily.

“No, it’s just a liability waiver.”

“You should still read it, you never know…”

“You’re being ridiculous,” she snapped, trying to keep her voice low.

“I’m just looking out for you.”

“I think I can handle signing a waiver.”

“Okay whatever suit yourself,” he said, voice clipped as he turned back toward the speaker, who was glaring at them for talking in the middle of his presentation.

Clarke shot Bellamy a confused look, what was that? Did they just have a fight? Over a liability waiver no less?

Bellamy was acting weird, he had been acting weird since the night after the rose ceremony. It came in waves, sometimes he would act completely normal and then something would switch. At first, she had brushed it off as being sleep deprived but as it continued, his snappiness was starting to irritate her. It almost felt like he was trying to pick fights with her constantly, digging at small things for no reason just to have something to be annoyed about. They always came on at the most random times too, times when they were supposed to be having fun.

“Is everything okay with you? Because if something is wrong, I’d rather we just talk about it,” she huffed, as they followed the group through the forest and toward what was presumably supposed to be their date spot.

Bellamy stayed silent for a beat; eyes trained straight ahead, almost like he hadn’t heard her. This made her stomach drop further, sent a wave of panic through her entire body. Did he know how she felt? She didn’t think it was that obvious but maybe he had figured it out somehow. He had figured it out and now he felt awkward, she knew it, everything was ruined.

“I’m sorry I overreacted about the waivers, I’ve been kind of on edge lately, I haven’t been sleeping well and doing that talking head a million times was really frustrating for me,” he admitted, voice soft as he looked over at her, closing the gap between them just a little.

Relief flooded through her veins, all the adrenaline she had built up for her impending rejection flowing away. Now that she noticed, he did look exhausted. It was hard to tell with his deep tan, but there were faint purple bags under his eyes, a little extra crinkle at the corners of his mouth.

“It’s okay,” she assured, reaching out to lace her fingers with his. “Are you feeling up to this? We can just sit this one out if you want to.”

“When are we ever going zipline in a Mexican jungle again?” he insisted, squeezing her hand tightly. “We have plenty of time to nap on the beach.”

“If you insist…but I really don’t mind.”

Bellamy smiled fondly at her, the last of his sour mood dropping away as he untangled their hands and wrapped his arms around her. The position made walking substantially more difficult, but the warmth of his arms around her and the confirmation that everything was okay, was enough to make the stilted movement worth it.

The zipline turned out to be more than worthwhile. They had rigged it so that they could ride down it together, their lines attached close enough that Clarke was basically positioned in Bellamy’s lap. He kept his arms around her the entire time, holding her tightly to his chest as they flew through the jungle.

There were a lot of terrible things about this franchise, but they did know how to plan an incredible date. They ziplined over the sunset, watching the warm orange glow fade into a soft purple through the trees. The sounds of wildlife clicked around them as they flew, Bellamy leaning forward to point them out on the branches.

The whole thing kind of felt like a Disney movie.

His lips were soft, brushing against the corner of her jaw while the scruff on his cheeks rubbed up against hers. With the sun disappearing quickly, the air had grown cold and he ran his hands up and down her arms, transferring the heat to hers.

She wasn’t sure how long they had been doing this, it felt like time was flying by and she wanted to hold on to this memory for as long as possible. It never felt like she would get enough, the feeling of being both free and completely safe all at once.

Totally in the moment, she reached out to cup Bellamy’s jaw, turning his head so she could kiss him midair. He smiled against her lips, teeth clicking against hers, but he held her close, propelled the kiss forward. It was a new sensation, kissing someone without anything to lean back on. She wanted more, wanted him closer, they had never kissed like this before, unrestrained, passionately.

He groaned softly, hand drifting down to her waist as his lips slid against hers. Clarke’s entire body was aching for more, overwhelmed by the intensity of it.

They broke apart with a jump when they slammed directly into the end of the line, both completely caught off guard by the sudden movement. The zipline operator was yelling at them in Spanish, rolling his eyes as he unclicked them from their harnesses and shooed them away from the platform.

“He’s calling you guys horny idiots…just so you know,” Raven teased, almost falling off the stairs from laughing as she and Wick paused to wait for them.

Russell was waiting for them at the bottom of the steps, holding out a bag of McDonald’s for them. The smell of greasy fries and soggy burgers wafted through the air, the intensity of it made Clarke’s stomach churn. They weren’t allowed to eat on their dates, the chewing interrupted the conversations, caused unsavory sounds to filter through the mics. Instead, they had to shove burgers and fries down their throats on the way there.

She had started to associate the taste of burgers with this show and it had kind of ruined fast food for her forever. As hungry as she was, this meal looked like the most unappetizing thing in the entire world, but she bit her tongue and ate it anyway, she would regret it later if she didn’t.

“Do you want to trade?” Bellamy asked, holding out his half-eaten McChicken and gesturing toward her cheeseburger.

She nodded, taking his sandwich and handing him hers. It was nice to have some variety, the chicken significantly less greasy than what she had been eating before.

It didn’t even occur to her that eating half of someone else’s sandwich was kind of gross until she had already finished eating. She wasn’t sure if it was a testament to how comfortable she had gotten with Bellamy or just a product of extreme hunger and reflexive hatred of cheeseburgers.

“Alright guys, this is your stop,” Russell announced, gently prying the yellow paper wrapper from Clarke’s hand and an empty fry container from Bellamy before pushing them both toward an elaborately staged area.

There was a simple table with two chairs in the middle of the room, surrounded completely by a pool of water with candles floating across the surface. Much like the zip lining date, they never did anything half-assed around here, it was honestly a shame this wasn’t a real date.

“No script for you guys or anything, just talk about yourselves, really open up in you can. We want the audience to root for you guys,” the producer instructed, giving them a thumbs up before disappearing into the unlit background.

Clarke played with the ends of her hair, suddenly nervous about the whole situation. She knew this was fake, that there would be nothing real about this dinner, including the spray-painted cheese board in front of her but looking across the table at Bellamy felt real, especially after the evening they had just had.

At this moment, she desperately wished they had met under normal circumstances, that they could’ve gone to dinner like a normal boring couple, maybe done something stereotypical afterward like axe throwing or mini-golf. Mostly because at least that way she would know that he liked her back, she would know for sure that all of this was real, that what she was feeling wasn’t crazy.

“I’m really happy to be here with you tonight,” Bellamy began, reaching out to lace his fingers with hers.

“I am too, you really surprised me on day one, I didn’t come here expecting to feel this way,” she admitted candidly, knowing that Bellamy would disregard most of what she was saying because it was in front of the cameras. This would be a good way for her to get things off her chest, to let go of some of the feelings she had been pushing down over the past week.

They talked back and forth about their first week together, reminisced over some of the things they had done, chatted aimlessly about basically nothing. It was bare-bones small talk, not exactly the deep, heartfelt conversation they had asked them for.

“Bellamy, ask Clarke what she’s looking for out of her own love story,” someone called from the sidelines, peeking their head out from the shadow to indicate that the camera was still rolling.

“I would never say something like tha—”

“Just ask her!”

“ _So Clarke,_ what are you looking for out of your own love story,” he sighed, clearly trying not to roll his eyes as the words came out.

“I think I’ve always wanted to be the kind of person who was married to their best friend, someone you can come home to at the end of the day and just laugh with. My parents weren’t really like that—their marriage was kind of unusual, so it was always something I wanted for my own family,” she replied, surprised with how honest her answer had turned out to be. Even though she knew she should be careful around the cameras, she couldn’t suppress the desire to share parts of herself with Bellamy.

“I really like that, I feel the same way. My parents were never married, so growing up I really romanticized the idea of it. I used to think that love stories were all about grand gestures but as I’ve gotten older I definitely think it’s more about having someone who gets excited about the same things that you do.”

“So what’s something that you get excited about?”

“I love ancient history more than anything. My whole house is full of old textbooks about it,” he admitted, shoulders softening as he focused more closely on her. His eyes bore into hers, making her stomach flutter with the intensity of his stare. “When I was a kid my mom used to read myths to me. She, later on, she made the mistake of letting me pick my sister’s name—it’s part of how she ended up with Octavia. Don’t think she ever fully forgave me for that one.”

“That’s so nerdy…but also, adorable? You and your sister must be pretty close then?”

“She’s like my best friend, is that pathetic to say? I have other friends too I promise, but we were always really close growing up.”

“No that’s amazing, I always wanted siblings, I’m an only child. But I spent a lot of time with my dad because I never really had anyone at home to play with, he’s the one who taught me to draw. He was an art teacher too.”

“I’d love to see some of your stuff one day…” he said softly and even though she knew the fifteen mics above them would pick up on his words, it felt like they were meant just for her.

“I think that can be arranged. But in exchange you have to let me sketch you, you have a perfect profile.”

“You think so?” he said, turning his head to the side and furrowing his brow while she melted into a giggle.

They shared a weighted look, the pad of Bellamy’s thumb brushed gently against her wrist, causing her heart rate to jump. So much for screwing over the producers, she had basically just fed them half her life story to air on national TV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Your kind words and feedback mean so much!! Thanks for loving on this silly little crack piece of mine.


	3. Will you accept this rose?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, I'm a Bachelor nation hoe...lmk if you catch my references bc to quote Arie. "I love that."

“Can you just admit that you agree, teenage Simba is kind of hot,” Clarke said indignantly, turning her head where it lay on Bellamy’s stomach so she could furrow her brow at him.

“How is this a real conversation?!”

“It was an important milestone in my sexual awakening…”

“He’s literally a cartoon lion! And he’s only in the movie for like five seconds?”

“We’re watching Lion King once we get out of here…we cannot be together if you don’t understand my love for teenage Simba,” she decided, words leaving her mouth before she fully thought through exactly what she was saying. Yikes. Well, that was forward.

“You’re telling me that the first thing we’re doing when we get out of here is watching Lion King?” he laughed, seemingly unperturbed by her implication. She wasn’t sure whether he was playing along for the sake of the cameras or if he was actually considering hanging out with her when this was over, but either way, the thought of them watching a movie together like a real couple was enough to send a wave of contentment through her body.

“Well maybe not the firsssttt thing, but it’s pretty high on the list…”

“What’s the first thing then?” he asked, voice dropping a few octaves, words laced with a hint of suggestion of real alone time.

“Hmmm,” she said, lifting her head to press a kiss to the side of Bellamy’s stomach. His skin was warmed from the sun, tasted like sunscreen and a hint of salt.

He let out a sharp exhale, running a hand down her side, eyes meeting hers, filled with heat. It felt like a silent dare to keep going.

They had been doing this more and more, pushing the boundaries of their fake relationship. It started with the kiss on the zipline, their first kiss just the two of them. That had broken some sort of unspoken barrier, the rule that kept them from taking things further than a standard middle school relationship. It started with a wandering hand during a kiss, a tongue slipped in what would usually be a chaste kiss.

The whole thing had left Clarke with a permanent prickle on her skin and a constant ache between her thighs. He kept touching her, grabbing her, kissing her justttt right. It was driving her crazy, she wanted more, needed more. The chase of it was just making her more sexually frustrated, edging her into pushing this farther and farther.

Feeling bold, she locked eyes with him, sliding her hand up the ridge of his abs, skating her fingers over his nipple as she kissed her way up his body.

He moaned this time, so softly that she almost missed it, cradling her ribcage in his wide palms, pulling her even closer.

By the time her lips reached his collarbone, he pulled her completely on top of him, lining up every ridge of their bodies, using his palms to ease her thighs around his hips. This was the farthest they had gone since that first day in the pool, but Clarke didn’t want to stop, this was heady, overwhelming, all she cared about was the heat of Bellamy’s hands against the backs of her thighs and the wide expanse of skin in front of her.

She nipped a mark against his skin, running her teeth against the column of his neck until she left a faint red bruise. She had never been one for hickeys, had never really understood the appeal of them, but right now, looking at the mark, she kind of got it, it felt good to make him hers, even if it was just at this moment.

He cupped the back of her head, guiding her away from his neck and toward his lips, locking eyes with her as he kissed her. The whole thing felt strangely intimate, much more serious than any of the kissing they had done by the pool or laying in the sand.

Doing this in front of the cameras felt wrong, the look he had just given her burned into the back of her eyelids as she tried to lose herself in the kiss, but all she could think about was the lens hovering a few feet away. She couldn’t do this, couldn’t pretend like this didn’t mean something to her for the sake of their stupid fake relationship.

Somehow these fucking producers had ruined her love life once again. She was literally on top of one of the hottest guys she had ever seen, and she couldn’t even enjoy it.

Mustering all her willpower, she pulled back, breaking the kiss before it could go any further.

A look of hurt flashed across Bellamy’s face, it was brief, vanishing before she could really understand what it meant, but it had definitely been there.

It was just enough for her to know she had made the right choice.

Lacing their fingers together, she pecked a kiss to his nose as she subtly tilted her head toward the cameras.

His body stiffened, but he held her gaze, keeping their hands locked together while they just looked at each other, both hoping that the cameras would grow tired of filming them stare at each other and leave.

“What would you actually want to do when we get out of here?” he asked softly, flicking his gaze from her eyes to her shoulders while he waited for her response.

“There’s this coffee shop back home in Arkadia, I don’t know if you’ve ever been there, but it’s a converted bookstore full of lazy old cats. It’s my favorite place, it smells like old paper and freshly roasted beans. I think I would take you there, preferably on a rainy day and we could just sit by the window. Maybe I could sketch you?” she answered, tracing circles against the skin of his chest as she spoke, legs still wrapped around his hips, keeping their bodies close. It was the truth, it was how she imagined them out in the real world, a place they could actually be themselves. How could she not? Bellamy in those wire-rimmed glasses fits right into her fantasy.

“I never pegged you for a nerd Griffin, but I like it. I like it a lot,” he teased, rising back up to kiss her again. It lacked the heat from before, fonder and more comfortable than passionate, but it sent a completely different emotion straight through Clarke’s heart.

“Takes one to know one—” she began, leaning back down for another kiss, letting it progress this time. His fingertips teased her sides, playing with the string of her bikini as they kissed lazily, lips just exploring each other.

“Tell me more,” he murmured, mouth barely leaving hers, skimming her lips with every word.

“You could read aloud if it’s quiet enough, whatever you wanted, maybe a classic…”

“Hmmm, maybe some Hemmingway?”

“I was thinking maybe Austen,” she groaned, tilting her head to the side as he skimmed his teeth over her pulse point, trailing kisses all the way down to the top of her breast.

Fuck it. Maybe she should stop fighting this, should just get it out of her system. His hands burned into her skin, causing heat to lick up her spine before settling between her legs. She could feel him, pressing up against her thigh, hard and wanting.

It was shameless really, and she would definitely have to watch this back on TV and cringe, but she ground down against him, desperate for friction. He pushed up just slightly, giving her the contact she had been aching for.

Bellamy’s hand slipped under the cheek of her bikini bottoms, grabbing a handful of her ass and effectively causing her to buck against him, eliciting another low moan from her lips.

“Alright, guys we’re rated TV-14. If you want to do that then take it to the fantasy cabana,” one of the producers yelled, gesturing for the cameras to follow him toward another couple.

He might as well have thrown a bucket of ice-cold water onto their bodies, causing them to spring apart with bright red cheeks, both clearly embarrassed by how open their display had been. There was a noticeable tent in Bellamy’s swim trunks and Clarke could feel the sticky heat between her legs, a painful reminder of how good this all felt. How right this was.

She had hoped that giving into this would help dull her feelings for him, but this just magnified them, made her want him more. He wasn’t just hot, he was smart and funny—everything she had been looking for, hell, he thought her coffee shop date idea was sexy. Why did she have to meet him on this show?

Anya was going to kill her.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to actually fall for somebody, just flirt a little, keep her head down and self-eliminate after a respectable amount of time.

Sure, if this went well, she could end up with a great boyfriend and the edit of the century but more likely, this would go badly, and she would once again have to hold back her tears in an SUV with her pride shattered into a million pieces.

***

“Can you guys talk a little about the Murphy, Josephine and Ontari love triangle? Make it seem like you’re concerned for him,” a black-haired producer instructed, not even looking up from his clipboard as he stepped away from the cabana.

“I’m sorry, did you just say you wanted me to sound concerned for Murphy?” Harper asked, drawing raised eyebrows from both Clarke and Raven, she usually wasn’t one to pick fights with producers. If she found someone problematic…that was a bad sign for whatever these people were trying to do with Murphy.

“Last time I checked, I write the scripts around here,” he said with an exasperated eye-roll, scribbling something down on his sheet while gesturing for the cameras to roll. “Don’t concern yourself with the storyline.”

The girls nodded, all taking long sips of their drinks to brace themselves for what would surely be an incredibly painful staged conversation.

“Do you guys think Ontari is a little…rough with Murphy sometimes?” Raven asked, clearly gritting her teeth as she tried her best to look concerned.

“They do fight an awful lot,” Harper agreed, leaning back on her elbows so the cameras were further away from her face.

“But he and Josephine fight a ton too,” Clarke added, glad to add something negative about Josephine rather than bring herself to say something positive about Murphy. “She’s always crying about how he doesn’t carry her enough.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt compelled to have anyone carry me like a baby.”

“Do you remember how she would always talk about her nanny? I think her nanny probably carries her at home.”

“Oh yeah! The nanny who makes her ‘cheese pasta’ and tucks her in for naps!”

“What kind of 24 year old has a nanny?”

“A very very lucky one. I wish I had someone to carry me and make me cheese pasta,” Clarke chuckled, knowing they should reel this conversation back in before they looked like bitches, but she couldn’t help herself.

“Well now Bellamy can carry you and make your food,” Harper teased, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively as all three girls turned to look at where the guys were doing pushups on the beach.

“Those arms are excellent for carrying,” Raven agreed, throwing her hand across her forehead in a fake swoon.

“Try to stay on topic ladies!” the producer called, waving his arms around to halt the conversation from its natural progression. “All the footage we have of Clarke is either with Bellamy or talking about Bellamy, we need some variety.”

Clarke blushed deeply, running a hand through her hair in an attempt to shade her embarrassment from the producer’s statements.

That couldn’t possibly be true.

Sure, she and Bellamy spent most of their time together and a lot of their interviews were together and a lot of her interviews were about him. But she spent plenty of time with Raven and Harper, she had other things going on with this island other than her fake relationship, or at least she thought that she did.

“We need Murphy to look sympathetic,” he continued, clearly oblivious to the fact that he just sent Clarke into a complete tailspin.

“Did you see that giant bruise on his ribs through, I heard it’s because Ontari got mad on their date and just clocked him in the side.”

“Holy coconuts, she’s got to be strong as hell. If I punched Be—”

Shit. She did it again. Maybe she did talk about Bellamy a lot? She had become one of those girls, the kind of girl who could only talk about her boyfriend.

Except he wasn’t even her real boyfriend.

This was actually pathetic.

***

Bellamy watched a drop of water slide down the glass of his beer bottle, condensation thick on the glass. It was sweltering, the heat like a thick blanket, covering them from head to toe.

They were all gathered in the main cabana, waiting in a giant clump for whatever announcement Russell was going to make. This announcement had been really hyped up, caused quite the stir around the house. Everyone had been speculating about it.

Would it be Finn? Gina? He hoped to any higher power that might exist that it wouldn’t be Gina. It had taken him a long time to get over the rejection of her season, the loss of what could’ve been. It’s part of what led to his outburst, why he had to come back on this stupid show.

He just barely recovered from that, thankfully there had been enough dipshits on the season to quickly eclipse the fact that he punched a hole through a mansion wall…and thrown a few wine glasses over a balcony.

It was a rough night.

Hopefully once America saw that a beautiful girl who was way too good for him had given him a chance, his reputation of being a hot-head would completely be behind him.

He laced his hand with Clarke’s, the feel of her skin against hers was soothing, helped him center himself. He hoped for her sake that it wasn’t Finn either, every time his name came up she visibly stiffened, turned into a solid block of ice.

He wasn’t sure coming face to face with the guy who had screwed her over would be very good for killing his temperamental image either.

Before he could consider all the ways he would kick Finn’s ass, Russell appeared at the base of stairs, eliciting a chorus of loud cheers. He had a wide smile on his face, a smile that meant he either had very good news for them…or he was about to ruin someone’s life. It was kind of sick that it was the same smile, but that was the way this show rolled, pristine, pearly white and plastic all around.

“I’m here to make a very special announcement,” he began, adjusting his bowtie, he was wearing a suit, an odd choice considering the suffocating weather. “It seems someone here has never been to prom…”

“Oh my God, Jasper you didn’t!” Maya squealed, excited giggling cutting through the otherwise shocked silence.

“Tomorrow right we’re turning our roses into corsages for paradise prom!” Russell announced excitedly, greeted with a weak chorus of cheers from Maya, Jasper, and Murphy.

Talk about anti-climactic.

Bellamy couldn’t believe this was what all the hype had been about. He had wasted so much time stressing about this announcement and it turned out it was about a prom. Clarke seemed equally irritated, a mixture of relief and annoyance showing on her face, but Jasper and Maya were all smiles, jumping up and down and kissing with excitement.

It was kind of cute, even if his blood pressure had gone up a few points in the process. Prom felt like a lifetime ago, suits and limos and corsages. Life was simple back then, he had thought he was invincible, that he would love Roma forever and would be best friends with the exact same people he had walked across that stage with until the day he died.

My how times had changed.

If Octavia were here, she would tell him to get out of his head, to just embrace this dumb event, enjoy himself for once. She had gotten him into this franchise because she wanted him to take himself less seriously…he had spent an entire season fighting that and it had gotten him nowhere. Maybe it was time to try things her way.

“Wanna go to prom with me?” he murmured, leaning down just enough that his chin brushed Clarke’s shoulder, a flicker of nervousness rushing through him.

She tilted her chin back, tucking her head into the crook of his neck. It felt good, comfortable, she smelled like sunscreen and pineapple juice, he wanted to wrap his arms around her, pull her to his chest and never let go.

“I would love to go to prom with you,” she smiled, and for a moment, it almost felt like she meant it. Her smile was genuine, blue eyes looking at him softly, affectionately. It twisted something in his stomach, he knew this feeling, this was dangerous territory. The last time he felt like this, he had been called emotionally unstable by thousands of moms on Facebook.

Clarke wasn’t supposed to be like this, he wasn’t supposed to fall for her. He had been preparing himself for a beach full of Revolve models and long blonde extensions, girls who were here for Instagram followers and a People magazine exclusive. That was what he was expecting her to be like, what he had braced himself for before he walked onto this beach…turned out she wasn’t like that at all, in fact, almost no one here was like that.

In all their dysfunction, Finn and Gina had broken the system. They had picked finalists who didn’t fit the mold and it was causing problems left and right.

The producers were desperate for drama. Everyone was in comfortable relationships, keeping to themselves for the most part. The beach had been quiet…too quiet.

They were definitely up to something.

But for now, he couldn’t worry about that. There wasn’t much the producers could do to him anyway. This time, all his drama was self-inflicted.

***

They really hammed up this prom thing…the producers must be really desperate for footage because they must have dumped a decent amount of money to make the beach look like a cross between a wedding venue and a high school gymnasium. There were thousands of string lights hung up everywhere, laced with gauzy ribbon and completed with silver balloons spelling out “P-R-O-M”.

Clarke smoothed down her red cocktail dress, it wasn’t exactly a prom dress, but she hadn’t packed her suitcase with prom in mind. It was the most formal thing she had, a last-minute forced add by Anya in the unlikely event that she wanted to get engaged at the end of this.

There hadn’t been a situation where she saw herself wearing it, but she was kind of glad she had a reason to. She had to admit, it looked pretty good. The skirt was long and airy, skimming the sand lightly as it trailed behind her, just elegant enough to offset the deep V and generous amount of cleavage it flaunted.

“Welcome to the first-ever Paradise Prom!” Russell announced, gesturing to the silver balloons with a wide sweep while the cameras panned each of the women and their dresses.

Roses ceremonies had always been Clarke’s least favorite part of The Bachelor, in the beginning, she and Raven had spent the hours before playing guessing games over who would get sent home. They made bets using M&Ms on how long Josephine would last during the season. But as time went on, things between them grew tenser, their games few and far between. After that, the rose ceremonies became a huge source of anxiety for her, a physical embodiment of whether or not the guy she thought she was falling in love with actually liked her back.

Looking back, she most definitely wasn’t in love with Finn—but the pressure, the high stakes, it made everything feel real. Knowing what she did now, knowing he was playing both her and Raven the entire time, making them both think he was going to choose them. These ceremonies just left a bad taste in her mouth.

She scanned the crowd, finally finding Bellamy in the sea of suits, all with a very official Bachelor approved roses tucked into the lapel. His eyes flicked up to meet her gaze like he could sense her eyes on him. The warm smile he gave her quelled all the animosity she had toward this entire process, especially the faux-dramatization that was coming out of Russell’s mouth right now.

He was going to pick her, and they were going to take cheesy photo booth pictures and dance to songs from 2009.

Just for one night, she was going to let herself indulge in her crush on him and actually enjoy herself for once.

“Alright, I think we all know the answer already…but Bellamy,” Russell called, handing a special corsage themed rose to him. They all froze, waiting for the cameras to pan between Clarke and Bellamy in awkward silence.

“Clarke, will you accept this rose?” he asked, stepping forward just close enough that he was blocking her view of the camera—the man knew her well, she would give him that.

“Only if you’ll be my prom date,” she smiled, holding out her arm to allow him to fasten the rose. He kept his fingers on her skin, trailing up her arms until he wrapped her in a gentle embrace.

“You look—incredible,” Bellamy whispered in her ear, pressing a soft kiss just below her earlobe. It was just quiet enough that it felt private, even while standing in a room full of people. The brush of air against her neck sent a ripple of shivers down her spine, skin prickling with hyperawareness of how close he was to her.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” she teased, smoothing a hand over his chest, drinking in the way the fabric stretched over his shoulders, emphasizing just how broad they were, how big he is.

It really was a shame that the beach didn’t provide more opportunities for formalwear, because she could really get used to this.

He was painfully handsome, strong jawline, tan skin, a perfect smattering of freckles across his cheeks. His deep brown eyes bore into hers, so dark she could almost see her reflection.

With one last soft smile, he cupped her jaw, pressing an impossibly gentle kiss to her forehead before stepping out of her grasp and offering an elbow to lead her off to the side. Their exchange had taken far too long, but nobody was complaining, they would probably milk this footage for a few promos if they could. Hopefully the producers' willingness to indulge their flirting meant that they were getting the relationship edit and subsequently, the redemption arc they both needed. Considering that a producer was trying to angle a shot of them with Monty and Harper, it was probably a safe assumption.

The rest of the ceremony passed relatively uneventfully, a quick cycle of repetitive questions and rose exchanges. Until they reached Murphy.

“What are the odds he picks nobody and leaves?” Wick whispered, earning himself a few snorts and a glare from the lead producer.

Murphy shifted his rose from hand to hand, eyes flicking between both girls. His lip was caught between his teeth and his brow furrowed in confusion, if Clarke didn’t know better, she would’ve believed he was genuinely conflicted about this decision. In reality, he had probably been told who to pick weeks ago and this whole thing was just a way to fill time and add drama.

“God Murphy you’re such a little bitch,” Ontari scoffed, flipping her long brown hair over her shoulder as she looked at Murphy with something that could only be described as disdain.

From the way every single person on the production team tensed up, this wasn’t a scripted part of the scene. They were wading into uncharted territory and Ontari was just abrasive enough that the fake Mexican doctor might not be enough to save Murphy, this was jackpot levels of gold as far as they were concerned.

“Excuse me?” Murphy demanded, face contorting in confusion, eyes flicking slightly over to the production team. The dark-haired producer waved for him to not break the shot, pointing back toward Ontari.

“This is going to take forever, are your feet okay?” Bellamy whispered, resting his chin on her shoulder while he spoke, gesturing down to her heels.

“They’re not my favorite but I’ll live,” she replied, moving under his outstretched arm to hug his torso, allowing her weight to distribute away from the balls of her feet. “What’re the odds that Ontari punches Murphy in the face?”

“Very high.”

Bellamy’s hand traced up her spine, drawing her attention away from the fight and toward the way the pads of his fingers brushed the bare skin of her back. His fingers rested on her lower back, burning a trail of heat to the point where her dress and her skin met. There was a full out brawl erupting in front of them, but the only thing she really cared about was how good this hug felt, how simple—yet sweet it was that he cared about the comfort of her feet.

“Bellamy and Clarke, you need to separate, you’re distracting from the main shot,” one of the cameramen yelled from across the cabana.

Clarke’s cheeks burned as she stepped out of Bellamy’s arms. She missed the heat of his body almost immediately, the spot where his hand had touched tingling, leaving her with an uncomfortable hyperawareness of how genuine this all felt. There were more than a few snickers from Raven and Wick over their call out, momentarily derailing the argument until Ontari stomped on Murphy’s foot with her heel.

“What the fuck!” he yelled in pain, folding over his foot, dropping the corsage to the floor, an oddly apt metaphor for this shitshow.

It was almost enough to make her feel bad for him. There was something kind of pathetic about Murphy, he wanted notoriety so badly that he just let the producers throw him around but he was also kind of a dick so her ability to sympathize with him could only go as far as a mild wince.

“You clearly don’t understand what I have to offer, so, I’d like to excuse myself from this narrative,” Ontari smirked, quirking an eyebrow at Murphy and wiggling her fingers at the rest of them before she sauntered out of the ceremony, middle finger pointed directly at Josephine during her exit.

“Did that seriously just happen?” Raven deadpanned, running her tongue against her teeth while everyone else stood in complete, shocked silence.

Russell ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair, smile not faltering for even a second. “Well I guess that only leaves you with one option, John,” he said pointedly, gesturing for them to exchange the corsages.

Most of the cameras and producers were still focused on Ontari, following her throughout her extremely dramatic exit. The drama of the whole scene had saved the rest of them from having to do reshoots, leaving them to mill around the beach with only two cameras left to stand uncomfortably close and invade on their conversations.

“Great news, you two can now continue to be literally all over each other,” Wick teased, slapping Bellamy across the back while he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“We’re not—” Clarke tried weakly, but Raven interrupted her almost immediately.

“You got called out by a cameraman…not even a producer, I didn’t even know those guys were allowed to talk.”

“I think that was a first,” Monty agreed, gesturing for the bartender to serve them a round of shots as the rest of the group ribbed them about their PDA.

***

“Hear ye, hear ye! I stand before you to announce the paradise prom queen,” Jasper said dramatically, a plastic king crown sliding partway off his forehead. “Miss. Maya, I hereby crown you PROM QUEEN,” he continued, placing an enormous, bedazzled, prom queen style crown on top of Maya’s tight brown curls.

Maya looked like she was about to cry, her entire face lighting up as she posed for pictures with Jasper and they popped a bottle of champagne.

It was genuinely adorable, an excellent palate cleanser after watching Murphy pretend to cry over Ontari for over twenty minutes while Josephine sulked in the corner.

“Wanna dance?” Bellamy asked, gesturing toward where a few couples were already swaying gently in place.

Clarke nodded, linking their hands together, absorbing every moment of this cheesy, yet somehow heartwarming event.

She wrapped her arms around Bellamy’s broad shoulders, rubbing her thumbs against the skin of his neck. He closed his eyes at her touch, grip tightening almost imperceptibly around her waist. The music was soft, probably so they could edit it out later, but it was just enough to perfectly frame this moment.

“I like your hair like this,” she smiled, tracing her finger over the gelled curve of his hair. “But I miss your curls.”

Her hand ached to run through it, but the style framed his face perfectly, emphasizing the sharpness of his features and the soft curve of his smile. So she settled on cupping his jaw, rubbing her thumb over the sprinkle of freckles on his cheeks.

He leaned down to kiss her, but stopped just short of her lips, pressing a kiss to her forehead. This was the second time tonight he had done this, the first was so casual, it almost felt like an afterthought, evidence of prolonged comfortable interactions, but this was intentional.

The kiss was intimate, private, like a stark contrast from their messy, heated kisses for the cameras. It was like he was making a point to emphasize this moment, like he was trying to send her heart into overdrive.

God, she might as well be in high school again.

It was just a forehead kiss. A heart-meltingly sweet, gentle forehead kiss.

Despite all the practicality she had been drilling into herself before she arrived, holding onto Bellamy on the dance floor made her feel a little bit like a princess.

“The realism is startling,” she chuckled, tilting her head toward where Murphy and Josephine were aggressively making out, trying to lighten the tension between them.

“It wouldn’t be a school dance if someone doesn’t get pregnant right?”

“Now that would be the most dramatic season in history…”

“Don’t give them any ideas,” Bellamy said, eyebrows raised, tilting his head slightly toward the cameras.

They both laughed, swaying gently to the sound of the music and trading jokes about the ridiculousness of the whole situation.

“Can you do like a soft kiss, something really heartfelt,” one of the producers said from behind Clarke, causing her to jump from the suddenness of the instructions. At some point, without her really noticing, they had been surrounded by cameras.

Her immediate instinct was to tell him to fuck off, to shoo away all the cameras and somehow try to revert it back to before she remembered they were on a show.

But she knew she couldn’t do that, knew that snapping would lead to an editing nightmare that would render all this completely worthless.

“I’m so—tired,” she sighed, placing her head into the crook of Bellamy’s neck, allowing herself the indulgence of breathing in his scent, running the tip of her nose against his skin. If it also happened to obscure her face from the cameras, so be it.

“Let’s just give them what they want…I have an idea,” he whispered, kissing the skin below her ear, trailing kisses up the side of her jaw, soft, gentle presses until he finally reached her lips.

The kiss was intense, overwhelming, his tongue reaching out to press against the seam of her lips, deepening it, sending her head spinning.

Despite the heat of the cameras, she let herself sink into it, hands cupping his jaw, back arching for more contact. It felt like they were trying to fuse together, melt into one person, and frankly, she wouldn’t mind if they did.

“I think we got what we needed,” the producer chuckled, clearly satisfied with their display and moved to go bother another couple.

Even though she knew she shouldn’t, she couldn’t help the urge to peck one last kiss to his lips, relishing the way that his fingers flexed against her skin.

“Come on,” he murmured against her lips, kissing her one last time and lacing their fingers together, pulling her gently toward the cabana. “Be subtle.”

Still a little hazy from the kiss, Clarke followed his lead, ducking behind the thatched wall, keeping her hand tightly wound around his. She didn’t really care where he was taking, just as long as they got a few moments away from the cameras.

They ducked below the bar, currently unmanned, keeping their bodies hidden behind the worn wooden front.

Bellamy pointed to his microphone, unclipping it from around his neck and tucking it behind a row of bottles, indicating for Clarke to do the same. He notably didn’t turn it off, which had been her and Raven’s mistake on the first day, that was what tipped the producers off. She unclipped hers as well, suddenly weightless without the giant black pack strapped to her dress.

It was exhilarating, even if it was just for a moment, they were free, unmonitored. This small taste of freedom was the best thing she had experienced in a long time, it gave her hope, hope that maybe this could actually work. That he just might feel the same way.

God, it was like being seventeen again, the insecurity, sneaking around, the rush of being alone together for the first time.

Bellamy grabbed a bottle of Jose Cuervo, gesturing for her to follow him, dipping behind cabanas as they moved across the beach. Frankly, this felt ridiculous, they were adults, but this felt like a worthy price to pay in exchange for a few hours alone.

Finally, they dipped behind the rocks, edging around the corner until they were completed obscured from the party, the murmur of voices almost completely disappearing with the soothing rush of the ocean against the beach.

It was staggering how much had changed since the last time they had laid behind these rocks. This had all seemed so simple back then, like the perfect plan to get back at this system. But in her attempt to screw the system she had kind of fallen for the whole scheme all over again, just on her own terms this time.

“Come here,” he said softly, shedding off his suit jacket to lay back in the sand, leaving on arm splayed out for her to pillow her head on. Even though the logical part of her brain was screaming at her to be careful, the sight of Bellamy, slightly rumpled and waiting, was just too endearing.

She toed off her shoes, fitting herself against his side, lining up their bodies so her head could rest against his chest, the sound of his heart thudding in her ear. It was steady, comforting—a lot like Bellamy himself. Being held like this, his hand against her hip, lips rested on her hairline, it was…perfect.

“This is so much better than prom,” she said, snuggling into him.

“What was your actual prom like? Where you prom queen?”

“Oh hell no, I was artsy and a moody in high school, not the kind of kid who gets crowned prom queen. I went with my childhood best friend Wells, it was fun enough, not the magical fairytale people go on and on about.”

“Artsy checks out,” he chuckled, pursing his lips just enough to kiss her hairline. “Do you think we would’ve gotten along? Gone to prom together back then?”

“Oh no way, you were like the all-American jock right? Played basketball and football, tall, gorgeous, not awkward at all. You were definitely on the homecoming court, the nice kind of athlete, the one who sits with the weird kid at lunch…but you definitely dated cheerleaders.”

“Okay fair enough, I dated a cheerleader and I played a lot of sports but I wasn’t exactly the cool guy. I was the kid on a scholarship who got free lunch, not exactly glamourous.”

Her smile faltered at that. Bellamy had opened up a lot about his life to her during these weeks, but every time he dropped something like that it still broke her heart, made her want to turn back time and take away all the hurt, even if all that struggling is what made this amazing man beside her.

“The jock with the heart of gold, nobody said anything about being cool…we all know about the history books,” she teased, effectively lightening the mood. He gave her a fond smile, tilting his chin down so he could meet her gaze. They held eye contact for a beat, just looking at each other, soaking up the glimpses of life they shared. Slowly, carefully, she pushed up to kiss him softly, funneling all the emotions she was feeling into it.

He kissed her back carefully like he was trying to figure out how to navigate this in private, without prying eyes or glaring overhead lights. His hand skimmed her back, coming to rest exactly where the microphone should have been, almost like he was making sure it was really gone.

The chasteness of it set off her nerves, was he unsure about this? It was risky, a deliberate violation of the fakeness of their plan, but before she could dwell too much on it, he deepened the kiss, tilting his body so she could wrap her arms around his shoulders.

It was all the invitation she needed to tangle her fingers in his hair, mussing up the carefully applied gel, running her tongue against his, tasting him, mapping him.

With a low moan, she urged him into the cradle of her thighs, hands roaming freely over his body, feeling his muscles through the fabric of his thin white dress shirt.

His lips drifted from hers, down her neck, burning a trail of heat as he nipped her skin, enough to tease her but not enough to leave a mark.

Fuck.

This felt so good, so right, it wasn’t just physical, it was like letting out a breath she had been holding for too long. Nothing about this felt like a hook-up, she wanted him to look at her, to mark her, to be completely his even. These kisses were leaving her desperate, her pebbled nipples rubbing against her dress, leaving her aching, wanting. They may never get another night together, this might be their only chance to really be with each other, for her to show him what this meant for her.

In a fluid motion, she pulled him over her fully, bringing him back up to kiss her again. The new position slotted their hips together, pushing up the hem of Clarke’s dress. She could feel him against her thin underwear, so close, almost where she wanted him.

“Is this…is this, okay?” he asked, voice edged with desperation, deep, gravely, barely a breath away from her lips.

“It’s perfect, you’re perfect,” she assured, bucking her hips experimentally against his, eliciting a low moan from him, a puff of air that sent shivers down her spine. The heat of it was making her desperate, her senses completely overwhelmed by Bellamy. She wanted more, needed more, needed him.

“It’s uhh—been a while since I’ve—” he said again, pulling back to meet her gaze, bumping their noses together fondly.

“Me too, don’t worry.”

“Let me take care of you first,” he whispered, bending to kiss her neck, nipping at her skin, biting down just hard enough to leave her with a pleasant sting and immediately soothing it with gentle kisses.

His words sent another wave of heat through her body. Her dress suddenly felt too constricting, her skin needing to be out in the air, to press up against his. But he also had entirely too many clothes on, the button-down shirt, preventing her from tasting his skin, biting his shoulder.

“As much as I love this suit…” she teased, reaching up to make quick work of his buttons, working as fast as she could without physically tearing the shirt apart.

“I don’t know if I like the idea of this dress more on or off.”

“Trust me. You want it off.”

In one fluid motion, she undid the halter of her dress, pulling the zipper so that it pooled around her waist, just on the edge of sliding down her body.

“Holy shit,” Bellamy balked, eyes raking over her appreciatively before he dipped back down to mouth at her neck, continuing his path down her body.

He paused at her breasts, taking the time to knead them together, rolling her already aching nipple between his knuckles, soothing the ache with his tongue. She was already sensitive, aching for contact, and the feel of his tongue on her was enough to draw out a moan, her head tipping back against the smooth sand as she whispered his name.

Giving her breasts one last squeeze, and a final admiring glance, he continued down, kissing her stomach, hipbones, the tops of her thighs. Flicking his eyes up to hers, he pulled her dress all the way down her legs, tossing it off to the side before settling between the cradle of her thighs.

“You’re—everything,” he whispered, the sound of it vibrating through her skin, emphasized by feather-light kisses on her inner thighs. It was enough to twist her heart, to compel her to tighten her grip around his biceps, urge him back up her body.

“I want to come with you inside me, the first time, I want it to be with you,” she said, voice sounding desperate even to her own ears.

“Fuck baby, whatever you want.”

He made quick work of shedding the remainder of his clothes before coming back to her, kissing her again, more softly this time, slowly, like he was trying to draw it out, to relish every second of this. She hoped he was because she would never forget this, never forget that first press of him inside her, the overwhelming sense of relief, of fullness, of an emotion she didn’t quite want to identify.

“I—God, I—want this,” she panted, cupping his cheeks in her palms as they moved together, heat building up between her thighs, running through her entire body. It felt like her brain was short-circuiting, a continuous mantra of Bellamy, Bellamy, Bellamy, over and over again. She dug her nails into the bare skin of his back, completely overwhelmed by how good he felt.

Her orgasm was building, so close, so close. But she didn’t want this to end. The promise of release was so tempting, but she knew it would mean losing this fullness, the feeling that Bellamy couldn’t possibly get any closer. The feeling that she was his, he was hers, that he wanted her as badly as she wanted him.

A soft whisper of her name on Bellamy’s lips was what finally sent her over the edge, her entire body exploding with the sheer pleasure of it. She mouthed at Bellamy’s jaw, panting his name over and over.

He followed almost immediately after her, pulsing inside of her, filling her, warming her from the inside out. His arms stayed around her the entire time, keeping her close, holding her tight against his chest, quiet whispers of beautiful she was melting into her skin.

It was perfect, so heartbreakingly perfect.

***

Clarke woke up with a jolt, momentarily disoriented by the bright sunlight in her eyes and sticky press of skin against her cheek. She was completely naked, a jacket draped over her body like a blanket. Bellamy was worse off, with only a pair of tight briefs covering his body. He looked so peaceful like this, completely at ease, the normally hard line of his jaw was softer, relaxed.

She wished they could spend every morning like this, soft and sleepy, just the two of them, all the time in the world.

Except they didn’t have all the time in the world, in fact, they probably only had a few minutes before people started filtering onto the beach, noticed that their mics were tucked behind the bar, would see them in last night’s formalwear, emerging from behind the rocks.

“Bell,” she said frantically, smoothing a hand over his mussed hair, gently jostling him awake.

His eyes flickered open, face spreading with a gentle, sleepy smile, meant just for her, arms reaching out to pull her back down. For just a second, she pushed her panic aside, letting him hold her close, hanging on to the delusion that they were normal. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt like this, the last time someone’s arms felt like home.

“Morning,” he said, voice gravelly with sleep, pushing her further from her panic. She kissed him softly, closing her eyes as his stubble brushed against her, leaving a pleasant sting in its wake. He pulled her on top of him, her bare breasts pressing into his chest, the friction pebbling her nipples. But the moment was gone almost immediately when a loud yell sounded from across the beach, the sound of Jasper and Monty tossing a frisbee around.

Bellamy stiffed as he realized where they were, how bright the sky was, how naked they happened to be in public. “Shit.”

Clarke’s stomach churned with something ugly, with the idea that he might regret what happened last night, that he didn’t intend for this to go so far.

“I think we can get away with passing these off as bathing suits,” she assured, gesturing to his briefs and her underwear lying in the sand, pushing away the self-consciousness that came with her doubts.

“Solid move,” he agreed, “We can swim back from here, it’ll be less noticeable if we’re wet.”

He reached out, grabbing her underwear and handing it to her, seemingly unperturbed by the situation. Without much fanfare, he fastened the back of her bra for her, so casually, like he did it every day. Her heart was racing, but she couldn’t focus on how confusing this all was, right now, they just needed to assimilate with the rest of the beach as subtly as possible.

***

“Are you okay?” Raven asked, flopping back onto the bed beside Clarke, the faint scent of vodka on her breath as she curled in close. “You didn’t come back last night and now you look—well you look like you’ve been hit by a bus.”

Clarke rubbed her eyes, running a hand through her hair as she kept her gaze fixed on the ceiling. This was a mess, a huge fucking mess. She had feelings for Bellamy—real feelings, the kind of feelings that made her want to do crazy things. Crazy things that could very easily get her into massive amounts of trouble, especially with Anya…and frankly she was terrified of her. She was also terrified of the idea that Bellamy was still putting on a front, that she was getting played and was going to end up with her heartbroken for real this time.

She shrugged at Raven, running her hand through her hair. She felt helpless like she was drowning, like there was nothing she could do to make the awful ache in her chest go away.

“Turn your mic off,” Raven mouthed, gesturing toward the thick black pack strapped to Clarke’s back before reaching around to click off her own.

It was bold. They only had a few minutes. Her heart swelled with affection for Raven, they hadn’t always been good to each other, but she was a solid friend, someone who was really there for her. Someone she could trust. It was something she never expected to find on a show like this and yet, this was the kind of friendship she had always longed for.

“It’s all fake—or at least it was supposed to be,” Clarke blurted, words spilling out the second her mic turned off, the entire story falling out in a giant lump of words, tears spilling from her eyes as she spoke. “I really like him, I wouldn’t go as far as saying love because well—it’s hard to really know around here and I can’t tell how he feels at all. But we had sex last night and Rae…it was fucking perfect, like lost my virginity on prom night perfect. “

Raven hugged her tightly, squeezing her so hard that Clarke’s sides ached, but it felt good, felt nice to be cared for by someone, a relief to have finally gotten everything off her chest, to say it all out loud.

“Well, I didn’t see that coming…”

“Trust me neither did I.”

“On one hand, I respect the hustle but on the other, I can’t believe any of that was even remotely fake.”

“What do you mean?”

“That either you’re both complete sociopaths, which I think is doubtful…or he actually really cares you,” she said finally, giving Clarke a soft encouraging smile. “He gives you this look, it’s so loaded, like you literally invented the sun.”

“He could just be faking it for the cameras is the thing,” Clarke sighed dramatically, flopping back on the bed and burying her face in a nearby pillow.

“Have you seen Bellamy act?! Or try to recite lines at all, the boy is pathetic at it. He is possibly the worst actor I’ve ever seen, so stiff and way too sincere to be a convincing liar. The way he looks at you—the way he touches you, how he’s so hyperaware of whether or not you’re comfortable…I would bet my good knee that he feels the same way you do.”

Clarke felt a sense of relief so strong it practically knocked her over, she wasn’t crazy, wasn’t making this all up in her head. Raven’s words were exactly what she needed. She couldn’t hold this in anymore, not after last night. These feelings, she hadn’t felt like this about someone in a long time…had never known someone who made her feel the way Bellamy did.

Tonight, was her night. After the rose ceremony, she was going to tell him the truth. Hopefully Raven was right, that he felt the same way she did, but at this point, it was a risk she was willing to take. Even if it was all an act, at least she would know the truth.

***

Josephine and Murphy were once again engaged in an enormous fight, yelling and screaming, the tray of roses lying forgotten as they bickered over something fake and pedantic. Josephine stomped her foot on the red tile floor, heel click reverberating through the small cabana.

Clarke wished Russell hadn’t called them first, her feet were aching and she longed to have Bellamy behind her to lean on, to prop her up and pull some of the weight from her feet. She found his eyes in the crowd, heart warming at the sight of his reassuring smile. He frowned animatedly at her, scrunching up his face so his eyebrows knit together and his mouth puckered. It was enough to make her snort, once again earning her a glare from her least favorite producer.

“So Josephine, who’s it going to be,” Russell asked, tone laced with a slight touch of exasperation. It was subtle, but at least he was just as sick of this as the rest of them.

“I’m over you John Murphy,” she huffed, scanning the crowd of men for a fraction of a second. “Bellamy will you accept this rose…”

The gasp amongst the group was audible, a thick awkward silence filling the air as Bellamy turned a deep shade of red, eyes wide with shock as the situation set in.

“What the fuck?” he said finally, not even attempting to move toward the offered rose. “I’m with Clarke—”

“Right…’with Clarke’,” she smirked, twirling the rose between her fingers as she spoke. There was something almost smug to her tone, like she was holding onto the world’s biggest secret. “Clarke Griffin, America’s stone-cold bitch. It seemed like she had finally grown a heart when she fell for the ever earnest Bellamy Blake…but as it turns out, it was all a fraud.”

Another gasp, this time even Russell’s eyebrows shot into his forehead, creasing his always perfect make-up just slightly. Clarke’s throat filled with bile, she felt sick, there was no way Josephine could know, no way that she was doing this in front of everyone.

“I heard you talking to Raven, telling her that this whole ‘perfect relationship’ was a scam. All things considered, I don’t really see a problem with me going after someone who’s in a fake relationship…” Josephine finished coldly, haughty smirk still in place.

Clarke felt like she was falling, like she had lost her footing and was dropping at a hundred miles an hour. This couldn’t be happening. Nobody was saying anything, not even Russell and definitely not Bellamy. He was blank, frozen, a statue.

“I need a second,” Bellamy said gruffly, shoving his hand in the lens of the camera that was trying to move closer to him. He paced to the edge of the cabana, almost unsettlingly calm, placing both his palms flat on the railing. His dark hair blended with the thick brush below, further emphasizing the tension throughout his body.

Then, in one fluid motion, he jumped.

He vanished into the thick patch of greenery, gone before anyone could really register what he was doing. There was a soft thud as his feet hit the ground, followed by the quick beat of running.

Bellamy was running away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you absolutely hated pretty much everything about Pilot Pete's season and you're really disappointed about Clare's season and BIP being postponed/cancelled and now all we have left is Listen to Your heart which looks like a real life Jed Wyatt dumpster fire--clap your hands! 
> 
> In all seriousness, I hope y'all enjoy this chapter and that this fic can bring even a little lighthearted silliness into your lives in what is truly a very uncertain and difficult time. My prayers are with each and every one of you, may you and those you love stay health and safe. I feel like the wise words of Bob Morley ring true now more than ever. Be well, Be kind. 
> 
> Much love.


	4. "Finasco"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BIG, thank you to kt_anansi for all her help editing this monster of a chapter!! She is truly a gem, check out her work if you haven't already!! :) 
> 
> As per usual, I'm BN trash who's just trying to survive off Tik Toks during this quarantine. Feel free to lmk if you find my lil Easter eggs or if you just want to discuss bachelor trash bc I am here for it.

Fight or flight.

The innate instinct hardwired into the human brain, the one that told you whether to escape from conflict or deal with it head-on. For his entire life, Bellamy had been a fighter. From the time he was a little kid picking fights on the playground, he never backed down. It had gotten him in trouble more times than he cared to admit, but he was always proud of his grit and taught Octavia the same when she was young.

But that was before the show. Before the producers edited him to look like a homicidal maniac.

Seeing himself act that way on TV was deeply unsettling, throwing things, breaking wine glasses. Even if it hadn’t been directed at a person, it made him question every action he had made before, every interaction. For a long time afterward, he learned to deescalate, to stop taking matters in his own hands.

But he had never run away like that.

Sure, it was cowardly, he probably should have stayed, before Gina’s season, that’s exactly what he would’ve done. He would have stayed and told Clarke how he felt, put Josephine in her place. But all that had crossed his mind at that moment was the look of panic on Clarke’s face. 

If he had stayed, he would have once again looked dangerously angry on national television and probably be brutally rejected all in one go. The thought of it alone was too much to handle and made his heart ache.

Clarke told Raven it was fake--immediately after they slept together, immediately after what he had thought was a perfect night. She probably regretted it, never wanted to see him again. Maybe Josephine had done him a favor, spared him the embarrassment of confessing his feelings just to be shot down.

He was a fucking idiot.

This was his problem, he always fell too hard too fast. It happened with Gina and it was happening again, except it was worse this time. His time on The Bachelorette had been heavily scripted, filled with lots of staged drama and only a few stolen moments for them to be alone. But he and Clarke had really gotten to know each other, spent nights snuggled together on beach cabanas sharing their life stories, they had time to kiss, to explore each other—this wasn’t just the cameras talking, he cared about her, maybe even more than that.

Paradise was a mistake, this fake dating plan was an even bigger mistake and he needed to take a long break from dating.

Finally, a safe distance away from the filming area, he slowed his run, collapsing into the sand. His chest was heaving, the salt air making his lungs as he caught his breath. The lights of the cabanas were barely visible from where he was sitting, it was just him, the faint whoosh of the ocean and the glimmer of a nearby village. He could see the outlines of people through their windows, probably making dinner, getting ready for bed. There was staggering normalcy to it, such a stark contrast from the weird simulated life he had been living for the past month.

He could keep running, disappear into the village and never return, but he would probably get sued. If not, then his PR manager would probably murder him instead. Considering his options, both sides were looking pretty bleak. 

But if he went back he would have to face Clarke, face his rejection head-on. Part of him wanted to tell her how he felt anyway, he needed to get it off his chest, needed the closure. He couldn’t live with another relationship that ended in silence, ending with a million things unsaid.

Maybe he would.

He didn’t have anything to lose, there was nobody else here for him. This was his moment to make his peace and leave.

***

Clarke was kneeling on the floor, hands planted on the cool tile. She hated crying, promised herself from the beginning that she would never shed a tear on camera, but she couldn’t help the stray tears that slipped down her cheeks. This whole thing was overwhelming, she wasn’t quite sure how to handle what was going on.

Josephine knew; She had called them out and was trying to wedge herself between them.

And Bellamy—well, Bellamy just left.

He left her here to deal with this by herself. He just ran away.

If that wasn’t a sign he wasn’t interested, she didn’t know what was…she knew how to take a hint. Everything got complicated and he didn’t want to stick around to see the fallout.

This was different than it was with Finn, it was monumentally worse. This time she was being dumped on camera for real, this time she was actually blindsided.

Vaguely, she registered Raven’s hand on her back, heard Harper’s soft words trying to bring her back to reality. She knew they were trying to help, but the coddling was making everything worse. She felt trapped, surrounded, like a caged animal.

Finally, she straightened, smoothing her clothes down, trying her best to get her bearings.

Bellamy was gone, but she wasn’t going to let herself leave here embarrassed. America had spent the better part of the year calling her an ice queen with no feelings, and now she was going to show them exactly what she was made of.

Through some sick twist of fate, she had developed real feelings on this show, feelings for someone who was a decent human being despite the way this had all ended and she wasn’t ashamed of it.

“What is your problem?” she snapped, moving toward Josephine, voice even and calm. “I get that you’re fame-hungry or whatever but don’t drag me into your mess. Don’t get involved in things you don’t understand. We don’t know each other. You don’t know anything about me or my relationship with Bellamy.”

“I literally heard you telling Raven—”

“First, you _ eavesdropped  _ on a private conversation. Then, you proceeded to make a hell of a lot of assumptions about what you heard,” Clarke seethed, anger lacing her voice, for once she didn’t fight it, didn’t put up a front. “This whole process is fake. You should know that better than anyone! It’s impossible to know whether what you’re feeling is real.” 

Clarke felt her chest tightening, she could barely breathe. All her anger, her frustration, the sheer pain of her heart literally ripping in half...it was too much. 

It all was too much, all these eyes on her, the cameras. She had never felt more pure hatred for this show than she did in this moment. 

“I—I--” Josephine began again weakly, cheeks reddening as she backed away from Clarke.

“You seriously can fuck off. You’re a snake, Josephine. I have a lot of things to say about Murphy, but at least he’s straightforward about who he is. He deserves better than you. You’re not a good person,” she yelled, voice edging on hysterical as she turned, eyes brimming with tears as she walked toward the beach, trying to keep her back straight. 

For her entire life, Clarke had been strong. Chin up, eyes clear, never showing a drop of vulnerability. It was the way her mother raised her, the way women in power were always supposed to be. Never showing weakness. 

But all being strong had gotten her was a shattered heart and a public persona of being an emotionless bitch. 

She was tired and lonely and so sick of being strong. 

Despite the cameras, knowing that all of this would be shown to audiences across America, she crumpled in the sand, an ugly, visceral cry slipping from between her lips. 

Quietly, Russell knelt beside her, probably getting sand in his formal dress shoes as he awkwardly placed a hand on her shoulder. 

“Do you want to talk about what happened back there? That was a lot, it’s understandable for you to be upset.” 

No more lies, no more pretending, no more fake bullshit. She needed to be honest, even if it meant spilling her guts in front of the camera. Her heart couldn’t take it anymore, there was just too much weighing her down. 

“I was scared. Scared because what I feel for Bellamy is so overwhelming that sometimes I can’t think straight. Never in a million years did I expect to come onto this show and find someone so kind, caring, intelligent and funny…someone who really gets me, who I love spending time with even though people in general kind of exhaust me. He’s the kind of person I always saw myself spending the rest of my life with, the kind of person I want to read books with on rainy Sundays. I was scared because this show has burned me once and I never thought it would bring me someone like him,” she said, not really able to control the mess of words that was spilling out. She let herself mourn her and Bellamy’s weird relationship, let herself feel the frustration over the fact that they met on this stupid show.

Russell remained wordless beside her, just listening. Clarke kind of hoped he wouldn’t say anything at all, he couldn’t fix this. What had happened tonight was beyond repair. This show finally broke her down, got her to cry on camera. America would get what they wanted too, her tears, proof that she was in fact human. 

“There’s nothing left for me here. I don’t know if I’ll ever find something like that again, but I know that things can’t be the same on this beach. I think I would like to leave,” she said, voice still scratchy from her tears as she turned to Russell.

There was a small flicker of sympathy in his icy blue eyes, just enough that she thought, maybe, her emotions wouldn’t get misconstrued. That somehow, despite her reputation and bad luck, her outburst wouldn’t look so bad on camera.

She was already heartbroken, had already lost Bellamy, she couldn’t handle any more stress or hatred from the fans of this show. 

***

Bellamy leaned back against the plush leather seat of the golf cart, the producers riding with him were sitting in complete silence. He wasn’t sure if it was for liability purposes because he was about to get sued for breach of contract or because nobody knew what to do with him.

The silence continued as he stepped back onto the set and was surprised to find everyone congregated around the cabana, draped over chairs, waiting for him to return.

Shit.

He had been banking on the rose ceremony going on without him, or better yet, it being canceled. He didn’t have a plan for this, hadn’t accounted for having to make his peace in front of all these people.

Scanning the crowd, he ignored everyone turning to him, searching for Clarke’s curly, blonde hair. His eyes raked over the small group, once, twice, three times.

No matter how many times he scanned the crowd, the result was the same.

Clarke was gone.

Maybe she had run away too? Escaped into the night? Or maybe she excused herself—

“Bellamy, she left,” Harper said quietly, standing so she could place a hand on his shoulder.

“What do you mean she left? Where did she go?” he asked, purposefully obstinate, hoping desperately that he was misunderstanding the situation, that this hadn’t somehow gotten even worse.

“She went home,” Harper continued, voice gentle, soft like she was trying to carefully diffuse a bomb.

He sat heavily on the couch, running his hands through his hair, trying desperately to come to terms with this revelation, trying not to snap. He breathed deeply, in through his nose and out through his mouth, steadying his heart rate, resisting the urge to throw a chair across the room, to give Josephine a piece of his mind.

Clarke was gone and she wasn’t coming back. Not tonight, not ever and it was all his fault. 

It was a message, loud and clear, she wasn’t interested in him. Maybe she never had been, or maybe he just wasn’t worth the drama. This fake relationship was supposed to help their image, reform them in the eyes of the public, but this mess was probably just going to make them look worse. In the matter of a few minutes, he had unraveled weeks of time in front of the cameras, embarrassed her and himself. It had all gone to hell and he hadn’t even told her how he felt. 

He really was an idiot. 

“Bellamy—” Russell began, sitting a comfortable distance away from him on the couch. He had been front row to Bellamy’s first meltdown, and it looked like he didn’t want to get too close in case he somehow found another glass to throw.

“Don’t.”

He didn’t have the energy for this, the kind of mental capacity it would take to formulate a coherent response without totally losing his cool. He needed a phone, needed to call his manager, to get a handle on how to deal with this in the least detrimental way possible.

He needed to break up with The Bachelor Franchise once in for all.

But when he tried to stand up, Russell’s hand shot out, eyes flicking toward the producers. It was a warning. A nudge that if he did anything reactionary right now, it would reflect poorly upon him. He always suspected that Russell was a producer puppet himself, a decoy confidant that existed to stir the pot from the inside but something about that look churned his stomach. That was a private look, so fast it was impossible anyone else saw. It was all the confirmation he needed to know there was no easy way out.

“What do I need to do to get out of here?” he resigned, understanding that they probably wouldn’t let him leave without some kind of storyline. He and Clarke acting like reasonable people didn’t exactly make for good TV. He was naturally less sympathetic to the public than she was, so it made sense they were messing with him instead of her. In a way he was glad for it, even if she was gone, at least she didn’t have to suffer through his.

It wasn’t until he was alone, curled up in a hammock on the balcony of the boy’s dorm that he really let himself process what happened.

He felt numb, still not quite believing that Clarke was gone, that he would probably never see her again. She hadn’t even waited to say goodbye, to hear what he had to say.

He couldn’t really blame her, not when he had quite literally run away without a word.

Part of him wanted to believe he would wake up and she would be back, that she would be waiting on the beach and he could wrap his arms around her and hold her against his chest, tell her the truth. It had been a long time since he felt that way about someone, since he really let someone in.

Never in a million years did he think he would develop real feelings for someone he met on this stupid show, but it was undeniable…he was heartbroken.

***

All he felt was numb, lying on a shaded cabana, waiting for instructions from the producers. The space beside him was cold, the spot where Clarke would’ve been, curled against his side, asking him questions about each scar on his body.

He told her things he never told anyone else, in those quiet moments behind the rocks or under the cloak of darkness. They made a game out of finding places where the cameras would never see them. He opened up about his knee injury, about how not having football in his life had completely pulled the rug out from his feet, how lost he had been, how angry.

She understood, let him talk, stroked his hair, held him like he hadn’t been held since he was young. She told him things about her own life, her childhood, her relationship with her parents. It was so intimate, so real, it was hard to convince himself that it all meant nothing, that they were just never meant to be.

But even if he didn’t want to accept it, it was over, before it even really got the chance to start. For all intents and purposes, their relationship was fake.

A shift on the daybed shook him from his wallowing, followed by a crowd of cameras and the heat of several overhead mics.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about what happened. Josephine sucks…” Murphy said, face sympathetic as he nudged a beer into Bellamy’s hand.

Awesome.

Just what he needed, to be a part of Murphy’s redemption arc.

“It took you long enough to figure it out,” he sighed, taking the beer and sitting up so they could be seen more clearly by the cameras. Even if he hated every second of it, the more he cooperated the sooner he would be able to get off this godforsaken beach.

“I really know how to pick ‘em huh?”

“You have the worst taste in women I have ever personally witnessed.”

“Yeah, but I really don’t know how to fix it. It’s just always been this way,” Murphy shrugged, leaning back on his elbow as he took a drink. He looked genuinely frustrated and worn down, the outline of a bruise still visible on the side of his ribs.

“Ontari wasn’t your fault, she had abusive tendencies,” he pointed out, gesturing toward the bruise with his bottle. Even if he didn’t like Murphy, that whole situation had been super fucked up, especially because the producers had basically done nothing to stop it.

“Yeah, but for some reason, girls like that are always really into me.”

“Have you considered that you attract girls with major character flaws because you act like a chode 99% of the time?”

Murphy chuckled, a real laugh, coughing when the beer went up his nose. But the producers didn’t seem to find it nearly as funny.

“That was a great conversation, but can you use a word other than ‘chode’? We have to edit it out and it makes your point hard to understand,” one of them called from behind the cameras, gesturing for them to pause so that it could be spliced.

Suppressing an eye-roll, Bellamy repeated his sentence, substituting the word for something more TV-friendly. The point was definitely lost and even Murphy looked a little miffed about the whole thing. For a second there, it almost felt like they could’ve been friends.

“Even if I tried to change, people already know me as a jerk—it’s my brand, an aesthetic if you will.”

“That’s a shitty brand and an even worse aesthetic. 10/10 would not buy.” 

“Yeah, it’s not really working for me…surprise! I should print t-shirts that say ‘I went to Paradise and all I got was a bruise the size of a toddler’,” Murphy chuckled, trying to laugh it off, but the joke didn’t quite hit. 

Bellamy held back, waiting to see if Murphy would drop the act. There was a lot to unpack here, things that he didn’t want to dredge up in front of the cameras without warning. Seeing this side of him, hearing the logic behind his actions, it made a lot of things about Murphy suddenly click into place. 

“I don’t want to end up married to someone unstable and violent or someone super manipulative,” he said quietly after a beat, catching Bellamy off-guard.

That was--unexpected. 

“Is marriage something you want?” Bellamy asked, looking at Murphy seriously. It was a genuine question, one Bellamy had been thinking about a lot lately. He had never given marriage much thought. Even though it was the end goal of The Bachelorette, he could never envision marrying Gina. He had cared about her a lot but at the end of the day they didn’t really know each other. 

Maybe marriage only seemed impossible when you hadn’t met the right person yet. It was crazy, genuinely crazy for him to think he could marry someone he met two weeks ago, but the thought crossed his mind more than once. In their private moments, he saw himself and Clarke having a life together, a home, a family. She fit so well into his world, they understood each other so effortlessly. It really scared him, it was part of why he hadn’t said anything sooner, why he fled from confrontation so quickly.

“Marriage is something I’ve always wanted. Having a partner—I’ve never really known what that’s like,” Murphy said, voice low like it was something he didn’t want to admit in front of the cameras. “Was that something you saw with Clarke? You guys were so in-sync, it was kind of freaky.”

“Strangely enough, yeah. It never felt like work to be with her, it was so comfortable from the start, I could trust her with anything like no matter what I told her, she would understand.”

“Maybe you guys will find each other again? Personally, I’d like to think that a connection like that isn’t something that can slip away so easily.”

“But that’s the thing, it can. It happens all the time, someone who you think will be in your life forever just doesn’t make it into your long term plans. What I felt for Clarke was something I’ve never experienced before, something that I don’t know if I’ll feel for another person ever again. Maybe some of that is this show and this beach but there’s no way it all was, at least not for me…but she didn’t want to hear that, so it’s just something I have to live with.”

His cheeks burned as the words spilled out, it wasn’t exactly what he had planned to say. Murphy was not the person he wanted to spill his guts to, especially in front of the cameras. But it felt good to say it aloud, to finally tell someone how he felt, even if it was someone who had no stake in the game.

“That’s dark, man—” he said after a long pause, awkwardly placing a hand on Bellamy’s shoulder. “Don’t let that consume you, I’ve been there, it’s not a good place to be. I get that we’re not really friends or anything but if you want to unpack some of that, I’ve got nothing but time.”

“I appreciate the offer, really,” Bellamy said, running a hand through his hair as he tried to center himself. “But what that whole, mildly pathetic confession was supposed to demonstrate is that important people in your life sneak up on you. Don’t push them away by being a tool.”

“I think I really need to work on myself.”

“We all do. There’s a reason everyone here is so unlucky in relationships. Don’t beat yourself up too much.”

They sat in companionable silence, drinking their beers, watching the waves ebb and flow from the beach. In the distance, Luna and Harper were doing cartwheels on the beach, collapsing with laughter when they bumped directly into each other and tumbled into the sand.

It was unexpectedly nice, this moment with Murphy. They had deviated completely from the plot points that were discussed this morning, but the producers seemed satisfied with their bonding.

“That was great guys, exactly what we needed, very organic. John, we’ll chat with you later about where we want this to go from here. Bellamy, I’ll speak with the network about your exit tonight,” the lead producer said, giving them both a thumbs up as he gestured for the cameras to follow him toward where Harper and Monty were kissing in the ocean.

It was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, in a few hours, he would be free. The conversation wasn’t nearly as painful as he expected, in fact, he was kind of enjoying Murphy’s company. Clarke would’ve gotten a huge kick out of it.

At the thought of Clarke, a fresh wave of heartbreak washed over him, reminding him of the fact that he couldn’t actually tell her that Murphy had a heart somewhere deep down.

A soft nudge broke him out of his thoughts, Murphy bumped him with his elbow again and gestured to the mic.

“Turn it off,” he mouthed, catching Bellamy completely off-guard as he unhooked the braided cord and pointedly flipped it off.

“They won’t care?” Bellamy mouthed back, already moving to remove his own mic. He and Clarke had gotten pretty good at avoiding the mics, but they usually resorted to hiding them. Any time they turned the mic off directly, one of the producers appeared within minutes, warning them against it.

“We gave them what they want, plus they like me,” Murphy snorted, collecting both their mics and throwing them into the sand. Not even bothering to see where they landed.

“They must like you a lot. Rumor has it that they’re lining you up to be The Bachelor?”

“Yeah, that’s actually why I turned the mic off,” he said, chugging the rest of his beer before continuing. “It was supposed to be a bullshit redemption arc and an easy, extremely scripted season. They told me that they were looking for someone ‘producible’ because they had so much trouble with Finn and Gina.”

“So, what’s the problem? That’s what you want, isn’t it? The exposure and that fat six-figure lead paycheck.” 

“The problem is that you had a point. You got in my head with all your emotions and shit.”

“Suddenly you want to find your true love?”

“Fuck, I don’t know! But they’re probably going to fill my season with a bunch of toxic assholes and I don’t know if I can handle that.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have come here guns blazing with fuckboy dust if that wasn’t what you wanted?”

Murphy fell back onto the daybed, palms covering his eyes. Bellamy felt a sting of guilt, everyone had their own shit going on and Murphy was no exception. He needed a distraction from his own heartbreak and psychoanalyzing this situation was kind of the perfect outlet.

Plus, he didn’t have a lot of friends right now and since he was single for the foreseeable future, maybe this was a good place to start.

“I meant what I said earlier when I don’t really know what having a partner even means,” Murphy continued, keeping his hands over his eyes.

“You can have a partner in a lot of ways. It doesn’t have to always be romantic. Friends, siblings, those relationships still matter.”

Murphy let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair, scanning Bellamy’s face, expression conflicted.

“I was a foster kid,” he said carefully, still not quite meeting Bellamy’s eyes. “Being emotionally unavailable is kind of my forte.” 

“That makes two of us,” Bellamy answered quickly, the response automatic, coming out before he could really process what Murphy had just said. Honestly, it made sense, especially with some of the stuff he was saying earlier. It wasn’t what he expected, but he suddenly felt closer to Murphy. They had a really shitty thing in common, something that nobody wants to talk about, that only people who had been through it really understood.

“Actually?”

“Only for two years thankfully, I turned 18 and then took guardianship of my sister.”

“I basically grew up in it, seven all the way to eighteen.”

“Good homes?”

“Some good, some bad, none of them ever stuck. I was just old enough to be ‘damaged’ but not old enough to do anything on my own.”

“You know by now that you’re not damaged right? You deserve better than people like Josephine and Ontari,” Bellamy assured, truly meaning it.

“Funnily enough…that’s exactly what Clarke said to me.”

Bellamy involuntarily bristled at the comment, the mention of Clarke once again ripping open the wound, refreshing all the hurt. He tried to brush it off, but he could tell Murphy noticed. Whether he liked it or not, they were kind of bonded now…it was just one of those things. Before Murphy could bring it up, Bellamy continued, barreling through the awkwardness.

“Do the producers know about it—the foster thing, I mean? I kept it out of my contestant packet on purpose.”

“I did too, it’s not some tragic backstory that I want told about me with sad piano music played over it. You know how these people operate, anything is a storyline. I’m a fuck because I’m a fuck, not because I had a messed up childhood.”

“Give yourself some slack. There’s always room for growth,” he said nudging Murphy’s arm. “Not a lot, you’re still a chode—but some.”

“Fuck off,” Murphy chuckled, flipping him off with a look of overblown indignation. “But it’s like you said earlier, if I want a real relationship, to give myself a chance, that’s an important part of who I am. I’m going to have to tell them.”

“You have to tell the girl you’re with, you don’t owe the producers shit. It’s your season dude, you’re the lead,” Bellamy shrugged, chugging the last of his beer as he looked at Murphy. He considered spilling the beans about the fake relationship, proof that the producers could be tricked with enough effort, but frankly, it didn’t matter anymore. He didn’t need to give Josephine’s stupid argument any more ground.

The last thing Bellamy had expected when he signed up for this was to actually fall in love, but befriending John Murphy would be a close second on the disbelief scale. He still hated this show beyond what he thought was humanly possible, but there were moments that he was grateful for. He learned a lot about himself in the past three weeks, a lot about what he wanted out of life, out of love. It would probably take a long time before he would be able to look back on this time fondly, but for now, he would take this last solid moment and leave with at least a fraction of his dignity intact.

“Look me up when you get out of here, we can get a beer or something. I don’t have a lot of friends either honestly.”

“That would actually be really cool.”

“Sounds good, just don’t call me to give you advice when you’re The Bachelor because I won’t come.”

“You sure about that buddy? You give pretty good advice.” Murphy teased, shoving him lightly on the shoulder.

“I’m not even watching this when it airs, that’s how sure I am,” Bellamy chuckled, shoving Murphy back a little harder than probably necessary, knocking him into the sand and laughing even harder when he yelped in surprise. It felt good to laugh again, even if it was tinged with the knowledge that Clarke would think this whole friendship with Murphy was hilarious. Maybe he would grow around this heartbreak, it would eventually just incorporate into his equilibrium, become his new normal.

***

Turned out, it was much harder to ignore heartbreak when you aren’t on the beach and you’re bombarded constantly with promotional material for Bachelor in Paradise. He and Clarke were featured in almost all of the promos, apparently, their performances for the cameras were especially convincing--considering he couldn’t seem to get away from it.

Everywhere he looked there was a clip. He and Clarke making out in the pool, kissing in a lounge chair, giggling at a private joke. There were even clips he didn’t know existed, of them talking aimlessly about turtles or about something stupid Clarke did when she was a little kid.

He got what he wanted, the press they were getting was exactly the kind of exposure he needed. His PR team was over the moon, fawning over engagement numbers and very satisfied with his growing follower count. The entire world was speculating over whether or not he and Clarke would get engaged.

People started following him in weird places, whipping their phones out to covertly take a picture while he was in line at Whole Foods or buying shorts at Lululemon. He was used to it from when he was in the NFL, but back then it had been middle-aged guys, soccer moms and little kids asking him for staged photos. This was different, it was usually teenage girls who never actually approached him, just snapped a picture and scurried away. Sometimes Octavia would send him memes from Instagram or discussion threads from Reddit, people drawing wild conclusions about his relationship with Clarke solely off of the type of almond milk he was buying—paired with an unflattering picture of him putting vanilla Almond Breeze in his cart at 8:30 in the morning.

It was headache inducing and enough to make him log out of all his social media accounts and pass them over to his PR management. They could handle his posts, reply to his comments, make fake comments on Murphy’s pictures. The constant bombardment of publicity, fan accounts, Reddit threads, and posts, was making it nearly impossible to get over Clarke.

He still found himself imagining what she would think of things, wishing he could send her the threads and make fun of them. She would know how to deal with the covert pictures, she was bold enough to call people out without feeling awkward.

Sometimes he would pretend to give his confession to her in the shower, listening to his own words echo off the walls while he washed the shampoo out of his hair. All the words he never got to say, all the feelings that were just bottled up. The outcome went different ways each time he played it out. If he was in a good mood, they would make up, she would feel the same way, they would leave together. But often, they would fake fight and he would let all his frustration over the situation spill out.

Things got a little better once the season actually started airing, he and Clarke weren’t nearly as central a storyline as the trailer had made it seem. Their general distaste for the camera and avoidance of production paired with Bellamy’s inability to act was enough to keep their features short. People were still speculating about it, but the public’s attention was mainly focused on Murphy’s drama and the other more public couples.

He wasn’t watching the show, but Octavia religiously called him every Monday and Tuesday night to give him a full run down, always just wine drunk enough to be honest about the editing. She bought into the franchise shit more than he did but was very understanding about his avoidance of everything. He didn’t love the recaps, especially because Octavia was firmly in the camp that he should try to salvage things with Clarke.

A lot of people were in that camp actually.

Murphy and Octavia were in talks to design t-shirts for the cause.

But it was too far gone. Too much time had passed, he wouldn’t even know what to say. Even his shower arguments were running out of content. It was a sign that he was dwelling on things for too long, needed to let things go—but he just couldn’t.

He hadn’t tried to date since leaving paradise, things were too raw, he needed space. Most of his time went into his new sports podcast with Miller and exercising. It was usually enough to fill his time, to keep him from feeling the emptiness too strongly.

“Am I going crazy? I only knew her for three weeks…” Bellamy panted, pumping his feet on his stationary bike harder and harder.

“Sometimes that’s enough. Some people know each other for years and they don’t feel as strongly for each other. Love is different for everyone,” Miller said, face enlarged on the screen of Bellamy’s Peloton bike.

“I don’t know Miller, I just fucking hate this show. I want this season to be over. Maybe that’s why I’m having trouble moving on,” he continued, minimizing Miller’s video call so he could focus on his workout.

“Have you considered that you’re having trouble moving on because you need closure? Or because there might still be something there?”

“I’m getting another call, I gotta go!”

“You’re deflecting, I know you don’t have anoth—”

Bellamy hung up before Miller could finish talking, he was tired of rehashing the conversation with everyone he was close to. Miller, Octavia, Murphy, all of them had given him the same speech in different forms…but it didn’t matter, he knew when to let things go.

His workout wound down and the screen closed, an ad for Bachelor in Paradise immediately popped up, the cheesy intro music blaring through his headphones. It was almost enough to make him want to throw the entire bike against the wall. Those ads were fucking everywhere, he literally couldn’t escape. The theme music was going to be stuck in his head for the rest of the night.

He was going to bed.

It was 7:30 and he was going to bed. He couldn’t handle any more Bachelor talk, not even the usual recap call from Octavia or the occasional additional recap call from Murphy. If he heard that theme music one more time, he was going to lose his mind.

_ Buzz, buzz, buzz. Buzz, buzz, buzz. _

Silence.

_ Buzz, buzz, buzz. Buzz, buzz, buzz. _

Silence.

_ Buzz, buzz, buzz. Buzz, buzz, buzz. _

Why wasn’t his alarm turning off? It felt like he had only been asleep for minutes, how could it already be morning? His phone buzzed again, an incessant, grating sound, enough to force himself from the comfort of his bed and look at the screen.

The light was bright against his eyes, still adjusted to the dark. The screen was lit up with Octavia’s name, a picture of her filling the screen until the call faded away, disappearing to reveal that it was 9:45pm he had 11 missed calls from a variety of people.

The phone immediately came back to life again.

It was still Octavia.

She wasn’t going to stop until he answered, so either he could deal with this now or deal with this in an hour when she came banging on his door with her entire family in tow.

“Hello?” he answered groggily, purposely making a huge show out of sound tired, hoping it would guilt her into keeping it short.

“It’s not even ten, are you asleep? Why the hell are you asleep?”

“I was tired?”

“Well wake up. You need to turn on this episode right now.”

“I’ve told you a million times O, I don’t want to watch the show. It’s just going to make me feel worse.”

“Bellamy Blake, you need to watch this episode.”

“I’m not going to.”

“Bell, listen to me. Watch it.”

“Can’t you just tell me what you’re talking about? Save me the trouble?”

“No, you need to see it for yourself.”

“If it’s bad my PR people will take care of it.”

“You’re being ridiculous!”

“Goodnight, I’m going back to sleep. I can’t believe you woke me up for this…” he sighed, there was no point fighting over this, they weren’t going to agree.

“I’m texting you my Hulu login,” Octavia called as the line went dead, plunging him back into the dark silence of his bedroom.

Part of him was intensely curious about what she was talking about, why she was so desperate for him to see the episode. But before he had time to give it much thought, his phone sprung to life again.

This time it was Murphy.

“You need to watch this episode,” he yelled, the rumble of people around him dimming the sound of his voice.

“I told Octavia the same thing I’m about to tell you. Fuck. No.”

“Bellamy.”

“I’m not watching it, Murph, enjoy the party.”

Suddenly Murphy’s side of the call went silent, the background noise fading away completely, amplifying his voice ten-fold. His words were mixing together like he had a little too much to drink, but his tone was sincere, gentle. “You’ve given me a lot of good advice in the past few months, helped me learn a lot about myself. I haven’t given you much in return other than my dazzling presence, but if I can pay you back in one way, it would be me telling you to watch the damn episode.”

“You don’t need to pay me back, that’s not how friendship works.”

“Why are we friends? You’re so damn stubborn.”

“I’m not watching it.”

“Fine be stubborn and sad forever! I’ll be there for you either way, but I’d rather see you happy than emotionally dependent on a Peloton bike.”

“Goodnight Murphy.”

The call went dead, leaving Bellamy to stare at the text message from Octavia with her Hulu log-in information and a timestamp.

It was weird.

They were both so desperate for him to watch this specific episode.

Why?

***

Clarke wiped a rag against the wooden tables, trying to scrape away the last of coffee rings on the surface. The silence was soothing, a reprieve from the constant badgering of Bachelor information. From the minute she landed back from Mexico, it had been constant notifications from every social media platform. It was deafening and extremely annoying, she ended up putting her phone in the freezer, otherwise unable to keep away from reading news about herself.

Part of it was morbid fascination and part of it was a hope that someone would post information about Bellamy, that she would have some way to see what he was up to. He crossed her mind often, usually at the most inconvenient times, it had been almost three months but the dull ache still remained. Sometimes she would go days without thinking of him, and then she would see his favorite brand of sparkling water at the checkout line in the grocery store and it would set her off again.

Her non-profit was a welcome distraction, something for her to focus on other than her heartbreak. In the end, her public perception was improving, it was kind of gross how quickly people forgave you when you were in a cute relationship, but she wasn’t complaining. That had always been the plan. She was the one who lost sight of that, who messed everything up with her feelings.

“You are the most difficult person in the world to get a hold of,” Raven yelled, barreling into the coffee shop with an armful of flyers.

“I’m available by email,” Clarke shrugged, gratefully taking the posters and arranging them across the front desk.

There was a quiet shuffle as Raven shed her leather jacket and backpack, dipping behind the counter to finish cleaning the brushes Clarke had laid out.

“How are you doing?” she asked carefully, eyes flicking toward Clarke, giving her a once over.

“Stressed, but fine,” Clarke lied, there was no need to re-open the Bellamy conversation again. Frankly, she was tired of talking about it, usually, it just made her feel worse. Especially since the season started airing, it seemed like the only thing that anyone wanted to talk about.

“You look—”

“Thin? Tired?” she supplied, parroting the concerned words her mother kept repeating over and over again. In all fairness, she knew she looked a little run down. The non-profit was a lot of work and the break-up had kind of stolen her appetite. Logically, she knew it was stupid, knew she was acting like a high school girl who got dumped by her prom date. But something about those weeks with Bellamy had been different. She had been the best version of herself, open and carefree, unafraid of love, of being vulnerable.

But that was all gone now. No matter how many times she looked at that stupid picture of him buying almond milk at Whole Foods, nothing was going to change.

She hoped that if she ignored the ache for long enough, it would just go away on its own, fade away with her other painful memories, but that possibility still felt really far away.

Raven didn’t respond, but the look she gave Clarke was enough.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” she said, trying to keep the tone light, knowing that if she pushed too hard that Clarke would snap. “I stand by what I said on the beach.”

“I let myself have hope for it once and all it did was leave me with a broken heart,” Clarke answered darkly, giving the posters one last once over before she moved to distribute canvases to each of the small, round tables.

A big, orange cat wound around her legs, purring softly as it rubbed its cheek against her calf. It was a small comfort, just enough to keep her moving, to soothe her just a little.

“I just want to focus on this event, there’s no point in torturing myself by reliving the past.”

Raven gave her an uncertain look, but she dropped the subject once other people started to filter in. Clarke’s new staff, the management team for her non-profit, now called Listen to Your Art. It was a great cause, raising money to develop art programs for children with incarcerated parents, something Clarke was particularly passionate about.

It was her first fundraiser, a private event for her donors. Specifically curated to ensure that there would be no probing Bachelor Nation fans in attendance. It was a relief to have something to focus on, something to fill her night with.

With one last look over her favorite coffee shop, she gave her event manager a thumbs up before disappearing into the back to change. The orange cat followed her, meowing ever so often to ensure that she didn’t leave him behind.

***

Smoothing her hands over her dress nervously, Clarke stepped back into the crowd. The event was in full swing, the tiny coffee shop jam-packed with people, chatter echoing off the walls, mixing with the soft jazz.

A swell of pride filled her chest as she took it in. This was hers; she had done this by herself. Every producer induced tear was worth it because it made this possible, and gave her the following that led to this moment.

But it was bittersweet.

Despite herself, she wished Bellamy was here to see this, wished he was cheering her on. She told him all about it during their stolen moments on the beach, why she wanted to do this, why it was so important to her. He had encouraged her, been so excited for her.

Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself, pushing aside the soft ache for Bellamy’s hand in hers. This wasn’t what she should be focusing on, she needed to mingle with the press, take pictures with her team, she could be sad once everyone went home.

She shook more hands than she could count, smiled for pictures with large groups of wealthy women, even found herself taking a picture with the large orange cat. By the time everyone was seated, waiting for her to begin her speech, she was already exhausted.

Clarke really was an introvert at heart, and it really showed in moments like this. She wasn’t built for mingling, needed some space to breathe.

It was almost a welcome relief when Raven nudged her toward the front of the room, forcing her front and center. Even with all those eyes on her, she felt more comfortable than she had since the event started.

With what she hoped was a friendly smile, she scanned the room, waiting for the chatter to din, mentally going over what she was going to say. There were so many people here, old and young, familiar and unfamiliar. It was hard to choose who to focus on, so she chose a random woman somewhere in the middle, hoping it wouldn’t be too noticeable and began speaking. She could just shift her gaze ever so often, ensuring that every audience member felt included.

“Hi everybody and welcome to Listen to Your Art! Tonight is such an exciting night for us and we’re so grateful for your generosity and support, we wouldn’t be able to do this without you. As you know, this cause is extremely important to me,” she began, losing herself in the momentum of her speech, delving to the work they were doing, the plans she had for the future.

She had been speaking for a while when she realized that her eyes had been fixed on the random woman for entirely too long…if she kept this up, the woman would probably notice and get freaked out. She needed to look somewhere else, anywhere else. Flicking her eyes across the room, she tried to find another person to focus on. Left, right, nobody felt quite right—until…

Tucked into the farthest table, all the way in the back, was Bellamy.

It couldn’t be. She was going crazy, imagining things. Raven had tried to warn her that iced coffee wasn’t an appropriate dinner, but Clarke hadn’t listened and now she was paying the price.

There was no way he was actually here, in her favorite coffee shop, at her event.

She blinked, squeezing her eyes shut for a fraction of a second, unsure of whether or not she wanted him to really be there when she opened them.

But he remained at the back table, unmoving, not a figment of her imagination.

He looked good, face shaved clean, shoulders covered in a thin t-shirt, emphasizing how big he is, how broad. The same thick, black glasses were perched on his nose, a heart aching dose of familiarity.

Seeing him here, in a place she had always wanted to show him, wearing his glasses, made her heart squeeze, made her feel kind of dizzy.

She didn’t know whether to look at him or look away. He looked nervous, like he wasn’t sure whether or not he should be there either. He hadn’t realized she saw him.

Did he want her to see him?

Why was he here?

Why now?

How had he even found her?

She still had almost ten minutes left of her speech, a long list of organizations and donors to thank before she could step away, before she could figure this out. This couldn’t distract her. Whatever he had to say, it could wait. He left her waiting in that cabana and she could leave him waiting now.

Keeping her eyes on him, she barreled through her talking points, smiling genially, hoping he would somehow sense that she was looking directly at him.

Finally, close to the end of her speech, his gaze shifted, looking directly at her, meeting her eyes. It was enough to tilt her entire world off-kilter, to bring back a rush of feeling so strong that she thought she might actually knock off from the force of it.

“Uhh—without further ado, please enjoy this painting demonstration with our lead art teacher Elizabeth!” she finished, clearing her throat before sweeping an arm toward her coworker and backing away from the spotlight.

Bellamy’s eyes tracked her for a beat, and he flashed her a careful smile before turning back to the demonstration, pulling a brush from the jar in the center.

Seriously?

He found her, came all the way to this event, waited for her to see him…and now he was painting?

What the fuck.

In the span of ten minutes, she had gone from confused to awestruck to pissed. It was almost enough to give her whiplash. She didn’t understand, couldn’t wrap her head around why he was here.

He didn’t want her. He made that abundantly clear when he ran away.

Was he rubbing salt in the wound? Or worse, did he want to be ‘just friends’?

If that was what he was here for, she wouldn’t be able to handle it. It took her almost three months to feel something close to normal again and hearing him friendzone her in person would probably lead to a full-blown disaster.

She wanted to run away, to slip out of the back and escape all this.

But that wouldn’t solve anything.

They would never get closure if they both kept running away. She had to be brave, had to face this head-on. It was probably going to hurt like hell, but at least maybe she would be able to move on afterward.

She kept her eyes on him during the demonstration, watching as he focused intently on the demonstration, tongue between his teeth. Despite herself, she felt a rush of fondness watching him, brow furrowed, completely focused. Even though she was so nervous it was making her feel sick, seeing him again was like a relief, like her lungs could fill fully again.

In all her heartbreak, she convinced herself she made the relationship into a bigger deal than it was, that if they had met in real life it never would have been so intense.

But she was wrong.

Everything she felt on the beach was still there, what she felt for him hadn’t faded even a little bit.

Before she knew it, the demonstration was over and she lost Bellamy in the hustle of the crowd. It almost slipped her mind as she occupied herself with bidding her guests goodbye and passing out business cards. The event turned out better than she could have ever expected, with thousands of dollars pledged in potential donations.

“Hey,” a voice said softly, breaking her out of her thoughts, causing her to jump. She knew that voice, could sense who it was before she even turned around.

There he was.

Bellamy was standing right next to her, awkwardly, canvas in his hand. He looked sheepish, unsure like he was waiting for her to tell him to leave.

“Hi,” she replied, barely able to get the words out, suddenly nervous.

“I didn’t mean to barge in on your event, it was amazing by that way. Congratulations, you’ve really done something incredible here. This was the only way I could think of to find you, I got rid of all my social media so I couldn’t even…” he rambled, running a hand through his hair.

“What are you doing here Bellamy?” she asked, trying to keep her voice even, from showing how nervous she was, how much she was dreading this conversation.

He paused, studying her face for a beat.

“I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?”

“I didn’t know you felt the same way I did. I just assumed you didn’t, assumed you couldn’t possibly. My sister made me watch the episode—”

Clarke felt lightheaded, was he saying what she thought he was saying? There was absolutely no way. He couldn’t…

“Bellamy, what are you trying to say?” she asked, voice desperate, searching, she needed the confirmation needed to hear the words come out of his mouth.

“I ran away because what I felt for you was real, all of it was real Clarke. I want to get to know you for real, be with you for real, spend time with you away from the cameras. Hearing you say what you did to Josephine…I didn’t know. I get that running away wasn’t the right thing to do and I would totally understand if you never want to see me again. But I’ve never felt this way about someone, I couldn’t just do nothing.”

“Bellamy, I—”

“I might be in love with you, I don’t know because everything about that fucking show is so confusing and messed up, but I would love to take you on a real date, a private date without a zipline and kiss you without a camera breathing down my neck and just be with you and figure out what this is together.”

Clarke was speechless. Possibly for the first time in her life, she didn’t know what to say.

She always had a plan, had a rough idea of what her life would turn out like, how she would fall in love. But this—having this man stand in front of her, tell her that he felt the same way about her, that he was still thinking about her, that he wanted this too, was better than anything she could’ve ever imagined.

Bellamy was bold, brash, frustrating but he was also so gentle, kind, smart, considerate. He cared about her, he wanted her.

He was offering her a future, a future she didn’t think they would get, a future that had seemed impossible only a few hours ago.

It wasn’t fake for him, maybe it had never been fake, maybe they both always knew deep down that there was something there.

“I might be in love with you too,” she said after a long pause, stepping forward just enough that they were a breath apart, the heat of his body so close.

“Will you accept this poorly painted rose?” he grinned, turning the canvas so she could see. It was lumpy, not quite a masterpiece but her heart soared. This was an offer. The final rose, the end of their bachelor road, the beginning of their life. 

“Yes. But only on the condition that you never buy me roses.” 

“Deal.” 

The painting dropped out of his grasp, falling to the floor with a soft thud, freeing his hands to cup her waist gently. He rubbed his thumbs against her skin. Neither of them spoke, just shared a look, a long weighted look, full of promise, excitement, disbelief.

And then, without the cameras, or without probing eyes, he bent down to kiss her.

Their first real kiss.

She sank into it, bringing her hands up to cup his jaw, pulling him closer, relishing the feel of his lips against hers. It was gentle, exploratory, probing like they were both trying to find their footing, remember each other.

It was exhilarating, both familiar and new at the same time—and Clarke never wanted it to end.

And now, it didn’t have to.

There were no more pretenses, no fake camera-people, no producers, this was real life, her real life.

And it was better than any Bachelor Nation fairytale. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh last real chapter my loves! I've had so much fun writing this story, it started on a crazy whim and turned into something I kind of love! I hope it's been as fun for you to read as it has been for me to write! I love y'all, thank you for your support and love, it's been so fun talking about this fic with y'all. There will be a short epilogue (possibly involving Murphy's season...) coming soon! 
> 
> Till next time my homies!! Please let me know what you think I love hearing from you! So much love! Please be safe and stay healthy! :)
> 
> If you wanna be friends or you like moodboards, you can find me on Tumblr @Nakey-cats-take-bathsss <3


	5. Epilogue

“Have you read the latest?” Bellamy asked, scrolling through his phone as he flopped back on the bed, already dressed and growing impatient. He reached out, scratching their cat absently as he read through a Reddit thread Lincoln sent him.

“What is it this time?” Clarke asked, tossing shirts out of the closet while trying to find something to wear. “We had a threesome with Murphy?”

“No, we’re apparently broken up and cannot stand to be in the same room. I’m now dating Josephine.”

“Well, that’s awkward. One of us is going to have to move,” she chuckled, emerging from the bathroom in her underwear holding up two sundresses for Bellamy’s opinion.

“I vote you. Leonardo would be very disrupted if I uprooted him like that,” he smirked, rubbing their grumpy old cat under his chin as he pointed to the red floral dress in her hand.

“Who says you’re getting Leonardo in our feud?” she huffed, throwing the remaining dress over her shoulder before taking a step toward him, eyebrow raised in a way that made his stomach flip-flop. Even six months later, she made him feel like a nervous teenager. It felt too good to be true, like any second, he would blink and wake up alone in his old apartment. Clarke was everything he ever hoped for, the partner he never knew he needed.

They had been married for a little over three months. It just didn’t make sense to wait, not when they were both so sure. Clarke was his soulmate; he had known it since the minute he jumped over the fence and he hadn’t wanted to waste any more time. So far, it was just their little secret, something private for them and their families. It was nice, made their marriage feel special, made him feel normal. The privacy was nice after months of being publicly scrutinized. He knew it wouldn’t last forever, but for now, they were enjoying it.

“He likes me better,” Bellamy whispered, pulling her into the space between his legs, trailing his hands up and down her bare sides. She shivered under his touch, the red dress sliding out of her hands as she moved to wrap her arms around his shoulders.

“In your dreams…”

“The only thing in my dreams is you,” he continued, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, urging her closer. It was the truth, but he said it to her often enough that she just snorted at his words, deepening their kiss.

“You deserve an award for ‘World’s Cheesiest Husband’,” she teased, pushing him back onto the bed, lowering herself over his body, grinding down even though she knew they didn’t have time for this. Not today. Not when there was going to be a limo pulling up in front of their house in a matter of minutes.

“I’ll take my award with pride,” he murmured against her lips, palming her ass, unable to contain his groan when she ground down on him. He practically knew they didn’t have time, but part of him wondered whether they could be a little late.

Octavia and Lincoln wouldn’t mind waiting outside for a few minutes…

He was on the edge of giving in, the feel of Clarke’s lips on his neck proving too strong, when his phone rang.

“Shit. We’re going to be late,” Clarke groaned, sliding off his body, lip caught between her teeth, clearly irritated by their interruption. “It’s amazing how we aren’t even on the show anymore and the producers are still cockblocking us.”

***

“Is there more champagne?” Octavia huffed, turning her long flute upside down as she frowned overdramatically.

“Maybe we should slow down just a little?” Lincoln suggested gently, grabbing the extra bottle before his wife could open it and moving it to the other side of the limo.

“Being a little drunk actually sounds like a good idea, is there anything back here that’s stronger than champagne?” Clarke asked, lifting the lid of the minibar so she could root through the small fridge. Sure enough, there were a handful of travel-sized liquor bottles nestled in the corner.

She had sworn to herself that she would never come back on this show, that she would never in her life ride in another limo. But Bellamy just had to go and become best friends with Murphy, and then Murphy just had to go and become The Bachelor.

Logically, she knew that the producers couldn’t do anything to her anymore, but the idea of having cameras on her again made her stomach knot.

“It’s going to be okay,” Bellamy whispered, pulling her against his side and rubbing soothing circles against her back. He pecked a quick kiss to her temple and despite his reassurances, he reached across her lap to retrieve a mini-tequila bottle for himself. It was obvious he was just as nervous about this as she was.

“Here’s to jumping right back into the lion’s den,” she sighed, clinking her vodka with his tequila, wincing at the sting as she threw it back.

Tossing the bottle into the tiny trash can beside her, Clarke eyed her wedding band, the bright glint of her engagement ring catching the overhead lights as she moved.

“Are you sure I shouldn’t take this off?” she sighed, twisting the ring around her finger nervously.

“You guys can’t be hermits forever! The secret wedding already happened…” Octavia said, pulling another bottle of champagne from below the seat and twisting off the little foil cap. Lincoln protested slightly beside her, but took the offered glass without much complaint. His season had been relatively unproblematic, especially in comparison to what Bellamy and Clarke endured, but reliving the whole process was still stressful.

“People on Reddit figured it out like six months ago anyway. I saw this crazy analysis where someone zoomed in really close on a picture that Bellamy posted to find a tan line on his ring finger,” Lincoln nodded, giving them both a sympathetic smile over the rim of his glass.

“Yeah, Anya sent me that one,” Clarke said, still twisting her ring. “There’s also one where someone saw the reflection of my ring in a glass of red wine that Octavia was holding.”

If there was one thing they learned in the past year, it was that in the public eye, nothing is ever truly a secret. But still, they really pulled out all the stops for their wedding, as much as they weren’t famous enough to cause much of a scene… the last thing either of them wanted was Bachelor sleuths gatecrashing.

It was small and private, just a little ceremony in Octavia’s backyard. No cameras, no audience, no social media posts. Just the people they loved most and the chance to spend the rest of their lives together.

A dream come true.

Being married to Bellamy was one of the best things that had ever happened to her, she had never been happier than she was with him. Their little life, their house, their grouchy cat, it was everything she could possibly ask for.

Well, almost everything.

Their whole relationship happened so fast; it was truly a whirlwind. It felt crazy sometimes, that less than a year ago she was single, but everything about their life felt right. So right, that they wanted to add more to it…wanted a baby. They’d been talking about it for a while, going back and forth. Only a few days ago they decided that they would just stop actively preventing it and see what happened.

She rubbed her hand absently across her stomach, watching as Bellamy and Octavia bickered about the champagne.

It was terrifying and exhilarating, and despite all her reservations, she wanted it to happen desperately. She was trying to keep her mind off of it, knew that stressing out would only make it harder. But the idea of a tiny person, someone that was half hers and half his made something deep insider of her ache.

“If we’re going to do this, we might as well go out with a bang. This is the last time I ever do anything associated with this show ever again,” Bellamy agreed, leaning across the car to wrestle the bottle of champagne away from Octavia, shaking Clarke from her thoughts.

“You said that last time and yet, you’re here…”

“Yeah, Murphy owes me for the rest of his life for this.”

“He owes us all for the rest of his life,” Clarke nodded, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly before sneaking one last sip from the champagne bottle. The mansion was just barely visible through the window and the sight of it alone sent her heart rate skyrocketing.

Bellamy pressed a soft kiss to the crown of her head, wrapping his arms around her tightly, settling his hand over hers on her stomach. He rubbed his thumb against the back of her palm, soothing her. Despite his outward calm, Clarke could see the way his jaw was clenched, the way his knuckles were tight on his knee. He was freaking out too.

“We’re married baby, they can’t mess with you anymore,” she whispered quietly, dropping her voice so only he could hear. Clarke reached out, twining their hands, relishing in the way their wedding bands clicked against one another. As nervous as she was, she knew she was right. They were happy and in love, they didn’t have to do or say anything they didn’t want to. At the end of the day, they would get to go home, curl up with their geriatric cat, and be a family, alone, with no cameras.

Before Bellamy could answer, the limo door swung open and none other than their least favorite producer appeared. The dark-haired man smiled broadly at them, no trace of his usual condescending smile anywhere as he gave them a brief summary of what was going on in the house and what their role was.

With a cheesy thumbs-up, the producer disappeared, slamming the door behind him. The limo moved forward a few more feet before a heavy pat on the side indicated that it was time for them to step outside.

Octavia grinned, checking her reflection in the overhead mirror before she swung the door open and dramatically stepped out of the limo.

“We’re back bitches,” she screamed, pumping both fists in the air as she stood in front of the old, Spanish style mansion.

Bellamy, Clarke, and Lincoln all shared a look as they listened to her chat with Russell.

Octavia was definitely more than a little drunk.

The rest of them piled out with much less fanfare, posing and smiling for the camera. It took far longer than expected with a couple slightly unnecessary reshoots of them all hugging and pretending to be emotional about returning to the mansion.

“John doesn’t know that you’re coming, so this will be a welcome surprise for him,” Russell said, a picture-perfect grin plastered across his face as he spoke.

“We’re just so excited for him to be able to find a love like we did,” Lincoln said warmly, wrapping an arm around his wife’s shoulders and drawing her into his side. To an untrained eye, it was a sweet gesture, but the reality was that he was trying to keep Octavia from stumbling in front of the cameras.

“We know how stressful all this can be so hopefully we can help ease some of that for him,” Bellamy nodded, holding Clarke’s hand in both of his.

Russell’s gaze flicked down to their rings, his smile widening as he looked toward the producers and then back to them. It was the confirmation production was waiting for, the kind of gossip they were expecting when Bellamy and Clarke agreed to come on the show. Within a matter of minutes, Lincoln and Octavia were herded away to take romantic pictures in front of the mansion while the producers flurried to prep Bellamy and Clarke for their interviews.

Needless to say, it was going to be an extremely long day.

***

Clarke shifted her knees slightly; grateful they hadn’t been required to wear cocktail dresses for this visit. They had been sitting in a holding room for an indefinite amount of time, the producers clumped around a clipboard, barely paying attention to them. 

After hours of interviews full of probing questions about their wedding, cringe-inducing recaps of Paradise, and overly invasive questions about when they would be having babies, it should have been nice to have a few seconds to relax. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was waiting to catch them off guard. Everything about this franchise and this house gave her anxiety, always made her feel like she needed to be on defense.

Frankly, it was exhausting.

“Alright guys, we have a fun surprise for you,” a producer said absently, clearly not very invested in whatever he was about to show they as he shepherded them through a series of tents. “A pool date.”

He stopped them in front of a few stylists, all of whom were sifting through large piles of bathing suits. Clearly, she shouldn’t have wasted so much time picking out her outfit. The reliving of paradise was almost cringeworthy, as much as that part of her life had brought her something great, it felt like something that was best left in the past.

“We totally could’ve squeezed in a quickie,” Clarke murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Bellamy’s cheek before one of the wardrobe girls whisked her away.

Before Bellamy could process what his wife had said, a stylist tossed a pair of salmon swim trunks at him.

“We’re doing matching outfits,” he called over his shoulder, throwing a similar pair of baby blue shorts at Lincoln before walking further into the maze of tents and gesturing for them to follow.

“I’m going to kill Murphy,” Bellamy groaned, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the shorts.

The rest of the prep went by relatively quickly, in a flurry of hair and make-up. In true Bachelor fashion, the set-up was intense, an elaborate poolside brunch spread laid out for their meet up with Murphy. It was a shame really, that all the food was plastic and spray paint.

He and Clarke were dressed in matching salmon swimsuits, purposely more conservative than what they had worn on Paradise. They looked ridiculous, the color managed to clash terribly with both their skin tones, but he knew the audience would think it was adorable.

“Alright guys, remember, he doesn’t know you’re coming. Try to really play up the surprise and how happy you are to see him,” a producer instructed, giving them all a big thumbs up before he backed into the corner and gestured for the cameras to bring Murphy out.

Murphy appeared within seconds, exhausted and sun-kissed, obviously still confused about why he was outside.

“Holy shit,” he yelled, scrubbing a hand over his face as he took them in. “Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

Bellamy held his arms out, wrapping his best friend in a bear hug. Murphy could be annoying as hell at times, but he had really missed him. Their conversation on the beach had been a bonding moment for them, had led to a friendship that neither of them had seen coming. There was so much he wished they could talk about, things that he would never dare to say in front of the camera. He wanted to know whether he had actually met anyone he would seriously consider dating, wanted to fill him in on everything he missed, tell him about their plans for a baby. So much had changed in the past two months, but they were limited by the presence of the cameras, by the heat of the overhead lights and the constant monitoring.

They greeted one another as per the producer’s instructions, exchanging hugs and yelling loudly, making a huge show about being separated for a few months. Clarke popped a bottle of champagne, using it to make mimosas and purposely pouring close to nothing in Octavia’s glass.

“So, how’re you holding up man?” Bellamy asked, trying to suppress his snort at the way Murphy’s face twisted.

“It’s—really confusing. You guys know how bad I am with stuff like this,” he sighed, flopping back against the striped cushion. “Sometimes I’m so sure and then I just start doubting myself.”

“It’s a hard process, don’t beat yourself up too much,” Lincoln assured, pouring a little extra champagne into Murphy’s glass. “The best advice I can give you is to trust your gut. I knew there was something special about Octavia from night one and I just let that guide me throughout.”

Octavia—still a bit drunk, teared up at her husband’s words, wiping away a few tears as she nodded. “All these girls are just as unsure and nervous as you are. If you have anyone special in mind, I can almost guarantee you that she doesn’t know.”

Murphy smiled softly, taking a long sip from his glass as he considered the advice. There was a glint in his eye, a small indication that maybe he had, in fact, met someone who he was genuinely interested in. Before he could respond though, a producer interrupted, holding up a hand to stop the cameras.

“You can talk about three girls. Try not to make it too obvious whether you’ve favoring any of them. You need to mention Becca but the other two are up to you,” a producer directed, tapping the back of his pen against the clipboard as he spoke.

“Villian?” Clarke mouthed, covering the motion partially with her glass.

“Psycho,” Murphy confirmed, saying it out loud, much to the irritation of the producer.

“No psycho or crazy,” the producer yelled, disappearing back toward the tent, shielding himself from the hot summer sun.

“There’s a couple girls I’m interested in…Emori is just, amazing. She’s so smart and funny—she really brings out the best in me. I can talk to her about everything, good and bad. We had our first one-on-one two weeks ago and we just laughed the entire time…” Murphy smiled, rambling for entirely too long about Emori before he mentioned two other girls briefly.

Clearly, there was a frontrunner.

***

Bellamy held a finger to his lips, pulling Clarke into a nook in the hallway, hoping that production wouldn’t come checking on them for a few minutes. It was unprecedented that they left him and Clarke alone with Murphy to talk but they seemed to be feeling extra generous. This little visit probably gave them enough footage for multiple promos. With their luck, their faces would be plastered all over Reddit threads and promo materials for the next six months.

Even though the idea of more publicity didn’t appeal to them, it was nice to see Murphy genuinely excited about someone.

These few private moments gave them a chance, an opportunity to give him real advice about Emori—and some time to explore the house by themselves.

It was surreal to be back, to roam around the hallways without the looming presence of a camera or a producer lurking around.

“We’re going to get caught, we were supposed to go straight from Murphy’s room to the limo,” Clarke whispered, whipping her head back and forth like someone was going to jump out of the shadows at any moment.

“Live a little, Blake,” he teased, heart swooping at the way his wife blushed, softening at his words.

He wasn’t exactly sure where they were going, but there was a thrill to sneaking around like this. It was nostalgic, a call back to their stolen moments on the beach, to a time where they would creep away from the cameras for a few moments alone. They could be alone anytime now, but opportunities like this were rare, he wasn’t going to waste it.

“You’re crazy…” she said, pressing a kiss to their joint knuckles. “But I love you.”

“I would endure all the Bachelor nation induced hell a million times over for this.”

“Me too. A million and a half times.”

Bellamy kissed Clarke softly, funneling all his emotions into it, hoping it conveyed the overwhelming amount of love he felt for her at this moment. It was true, every moment of being on this show that was absolute torture led him to his soulmate. He hated The Bachelor with every fiber of his being, but it would always have a special place in his heart.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he asked, in between kisses, holding her as close as possible.

“That it would truly be poetic justice to make our first baby in the Bachelor mansion?” Clarke whispered, cupping his jaw, rubbing her thumb against his cheekbone.

“Might as well finished what we started, right?”

With a chuckle, Bellamy eased open a nearby bathroom door, pulling Clarke in behind him. It was just the beginning of a long journey, a full life together. Whether or not they actually started their family in this cramped bathroom, he knew that they would get there eventually…and he owed at least some of that to a tray full of red roses and a show he swore he would never go on in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. Thanks for riding along with me on this silly little fic. It started off as a dumb idea and I never expected people to actually like it. I had SO much fun writing this and dropping in all my little Bachelor related Easter eggs. What started as crack has turned into one of my favorite fics. It's been such a blast to chat with all my fellow bachelor trash fans, I'm loving the amount of crossover audience there is here. I guess romance is romance, right? 
> 
> I've been sitting on this for a while and honestly I was so attached to this fic that I was avoiding posting the conclusion but it felt fitting to put it up on our newly confirmed Beliza anniversary. Talk about soulmates amirite? 
> 
> It's been such a joy to get to know y'all, thank you for reading and for engaging with me. Please let me know what you think, I love hearing from you and getting to know your thoughts! Love y'all, take care of yourselves out there <3

**Author's Note:**

> If you like moodboards and other fun posts or just want to be friends, you can find me on Tumblr @Nakey-Cats-Take-Bathsss


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